The Ark in the Storm
by IrishIris
Summary: With the wizarding world destroyed beyond repair, Hermione would do anything to fix it. In her case, 'anything' will include time-travel, monthly moon symptoms, and breaking all the rules with a certain group of troublemakers from the past. AU Marauder era. RL/HG. Rated M for language, violence, and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione hated dungeons.

She knew it was useless to pace, and yet she couldn't keep still. They'd thrown her down into the bowels of Hogwarts three days ago, and she'd been going crazy with worry every hour that passed. She'd been mentally preparing for a round of cruciatus, at least, but now she wondered if their intent hadn't been to drive her insane with mere fear instead.

A cackle came from somewhere off to her right and echoed off the stone walls, causing a ruckus to sound from a half dozen other cells around the huge dungeon. Hermione shuddered. She estimated it could hold forty prisoners, based on the size of her own cell and the echoes from her neighbors. Three of the four walls of her cell were made of stone, so she couldn't see more than the cells immediately opposite hers, but they were terrifying enough.

The cell she could only see a sliver of on the left-hand side held a handful of goblins, and not the somewhat civilized type she'd met at Gringott's. No, these four or five took turns stacking on top of one another to try and squeeze out the six-inch gap between iron bars and stonework. When they inevitably fell, they fought with each other until someone started to bleed. The next one directly across from her was empty except for a pair of great, unblinking eyes which followed Hermione in her pacing. The last one on the far right held a creature she hadn't yet seen the entirety of, just a human-like arm that perpetually hung outside the cell door and was made of rotting flesh and bone.

Having tired herself out, Hermione crouched down and pulled her thin jumper tight around her shoulders. She'd used wandless magic on her first night to start a fire, but the vicious commotion that had caused among the dark-loving neighbors ensured she wouldn't try it again, no matter how cold she got. In any case, the last rays of sunlight were fading. Their jailer would be bringing some food down shortly. Eating something would help her body warm up.

Time passed, though, and still there was no sign of the jailer. They'd come to expect three regular meals a day, and the other prisoners were getting restless. Finally, after listening to what must have been a series of transformations due to a full moon, a set of footsteps was coming down the stairs.

"All right, you lot," a young boy's voice sounded from the middle of the staircase, "I've got some portkeys for you all. But you'll just have to wait your turns. You're going up one at a time."

The prisoners weighed in on this, loudly, and Hermione heard the boy whimper.

"The Dark Lord," the boy yelped, trying to cut through the howls and shouts, "has finally decided what's to be done with you all. You ain't got a choice."

Hermione pressed her face as close to the iron bars as possible and she could just barely make out the right side of the boy. He wasn't more than a first year, she guessed, grimacing. Those who survived the Battle of Hogwarts lived with knowledge of the worst sort of cruelty, without exception. Hermione had come to pity the living and envy the dead. The world without Harry Potter was not a bright one.

The boy started passing out the random objects she'd come to associate with portkeys. The first cell received a toothbrush. After waiting a minute or so, he handed out a chewed-up top hat. Then the death-hand got a musty yellow blanket. And finally it was her turn.

She held out her hand, awaiting her object and preparing herself with a mental list of every defensive spell she knew wandlessly, but the boy passed over her.

"Sorry, Miss. He says you go last."

Hermione looked at the boy as he passed. If he really was a first year, there's no way she could have known him. She was horcrux hunting while he was dodging unforgivables from the Carrow siblings. He'd known nothing but fear from school, she thought, and her heart went out to him. As a rule, she did not like think about the things she didn't do and the people she didn't save, but sometimes her failures were shoved right in her face.

The Battle for Hogwarts did not go as planned. She wasn't even sure how Harry or Ron had died, but the house elf who saved her assured Hermione both had passed. As soon as they realized which side had won, the house elves had claimed and hidden as many wounded students as they could in the room of requirement, and tried as best they could to nurse them back to health. Hermione was the last student to wake from a month-long magical coma before they'd all been discovered. The physically able had been thrown into the dungeon. Cho had been in the bed next to her with a nasty gash on the head… she shuddered to think what had happened to those still injured.

The dungeon was nearly silent now, except for the boy's footsteps coming back up the hall towards her. His pale, little face came to her cell, and she was reminded of Neville in his first year. The boy held out a rusty tin can with his chubby hand, not looking at her. She felt her heart speed up, knowing this portkey could open up over the Atlantic ocean or above some island volcano. She hesitated.

"Take it!" he shouted, closing his eyes tighter and shaking the can at her.

No, Voldemort wouldn't have kept her locked away only to toss her over a cliff. He's been waiting to make an example of her. She gritted her teeth and grabbed the can. Instantly, she felt the yanking sensation from the middle of her gut transport her out of the dungeon.

"And there she is," an amplified voice boomed around her, "tonight's Mudblood of honor. I know you'll all give a warm, Hogwarts welcome to Hermione Granger!"

A deafening round of applause went up as Hermione blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the floodlights pouring down from above. Once the spots and fuzziness dissipated, she recognized where the portkey had landed her- the middle of the quidditch pitch. She tried to twist her head towards the announcer's box to see who was in the crowd, but found she was caught in a fully body-bind. So instead, she surveyed what was in her line of sight.

It didn't look good. She was dead-center field, facing one set of goals, with a minefield of dangerous creatures spread out. She spotted the goblins spaced a few meters apart, along with what was definitely a vampire, a giant, and a half-dozen other creatures she only had a partial view of. Interspersed between them were various students, some she'd known, but most she didn't recognize. She couldn't do more than swallow down the bile rising in her throat before the announcer's voice came on again.

"For those of you on the pitch unfamiliar with our midnight game, this is Wizarding Gladiatorial Melee!" the voice said, pausing for everyone to cheer before he continued, "The rules are simple. On my signal, survive for as long as you can! The last creature standing will be given his or her freedom….for a time. If you become a crowd favorite, which usually happens by being particularly bloodthirsty, you can call for a five minute timeout at any point."

"And, I think that's all. I mean, it is rather simple. Are you all ready?" the crowd roared once more, and Hermione took one long, slow breath. If she just kept her wits about her, she'd do fine.

A whistle blew and Hermione spun around. This half of the pitch wasn't any less crowded. A pair of centaurs and Ernie Macmillan were backing into a corner under the shadow of a gigantic troll, a flock of thestrals were taking to the skies, a different vampire was running from a haggard werewolf, and an acromantula was chasing after a young girl.

"Hey!" Hermione shouted, throwing her best, wandless protego out between the giant spider and the girl, "You leave her alone!"

The spider bounced off her shield and rolled backwards into the troll, but the girl was still running. Hermione started to follow her, knowing she wouldn't last long among some of these creatures, but a hair-raising howl stopped her cold.

She turned around. A huge, hairy creature was stalking toward her on all fours. She knew it wasn't a werewolf, since it didn't look exactly like Professor Lupin's form, but it was similar. Regardless, she aimed a confundus followed by a blasting curse towards it and then took off, ducking and weaving between the various squabbles. She scanned the chaos, looking for an ally. The only creature on the pitch currently not fighting was the giant, who was lying on his side. It looked like he had already died. Hermione felt bad for the poor thing, but she raced even faster to get behind his body for some much-needed coverage. The crowd above once again roared its approval and she heard a high-pitched voice wail. She didn't turn around.

When she finally reached the far side of the giant, she was panting. If she'd been thrown into this mess while she was still on the run with Harry and Ron, she would have been fine physically. But she'd been on a bed, out cold for the last month, and the last three days specifically had seen very little sleep and food. She tried to ward the little alcove made by the curve of the giant's fallen body, but her hands were shaking too badly, and the complex spells really required a wand.

A growl came from the far off to the right side of the pitch, and Hermione shrieked. It was that were-thing. A cat, maybe? It had pointed ears and whiskers, plus a long, fluffy tail. It was also hurt, Hermione noticed. Both its back legs looked broken and twisted at horrible angles. Still, she didn't think she could out-run a werecat, even if it was injured. She looked up and saw the coast was clear on top of the giant, so she started to climb. His flesh was still warm, but cracked and dry like concrete, and it chafed as she hoisted herself up.

She'd nearly made it to the top when a searing pain tore into her calf muscle, making her scream in pain. She looked down, the werecat dangling a few inches off the ground with its jaws wrapped around her leg. She summoned every last bit of energy she had and blasted the creature right between the eyes. The force of the blast worked, making the werecat let go of her leg, but the ricochet also sent Hermione flying up and over the top of the giant.

She crumpled on the ground on the other side, and she could hear the crowd on its feet, cheering what they assumed was her death. She gritted her teeth, sucking in air as best she could against the pain. It was coiling through her bloodstream now. The full moon shone high in the sky tonight, and even though Hermione knew the bite must be infected, she couldn't focus on that now. The werecat was more important. She didn't think it would be coming back from that last blast, though, so maybe she would have a moment to recover.

Such a gift isn't found in a melee, however. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a limping, stumbling figure coming towards her with an outstretched arm of rotting flesh and bone. She snapped up, ready to defend herself despite the flaring agony in her calf which made her cry out. The pain in her leg became secondary, though, when she saw who the creature was.

Her bun had come loose. It was the first time Hermione had ever seen it down. Her robes were torn to ribbons, and the withering stare she was known to give to Malfoy was replaced by an empty, dead gaze. Hermione wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, unsee what was in front of her, but she needed to get away first. She didn't want to think about what would happen if the inferius McGonagall reached her.

Knowing she was weak and easy prey, she chose a tripping jinx for the inferius. If she could just keep it away long enough to climb back on top of the giant, she might have a chance. A quick glance at the rest of the melee told her more than half of the participants were lying dead on the ground, and almost all of those remaining were all-out brawling in a mass of arms and legs to the excitement crowd. So far, no one seemed to notice Hermione and her former professor.

The tripping jinx worked, sending the inferius tumbling towards the ground, but it also made something sparkle from underneath the scraps of fabric. A small golden chain was tucked underneath the collar of what once were robes.

In a moment of clarity, she cast a full body-bind on the inferius, though it was pathetic and merely made the creature move in extra slow-motion. Even though the spell was terribly executed, Hermione collapsed in fatigue. Any more attempts at magic could send her into magical exhaustion, she realized. All the more reason to see what was dangling at the end of that necklace.

Hermione dragged herself over to the body of Professor McGonagall and reached out two fingers, trying not to touch any of the decaying skin as she moved aside the flapping fabric. It was her old time turner, she saw with undisguised relief. Hermione knew it had belonged to her former professor, but she hadn't known how closely McGonagall kept it. Before the jaw on the inferius could unhinge or bite Hermione in slow motion, she looped the chain over its head and hobbled away.

Sorry, Professor, Hermione thought, pulling the necklace over her own head and preparing to count the turns. Four or five hours should give her enough time to get away before any spectators started showing up, right? But she looked at the rotting body of the woman she'd considered another mother, and she knew she couldn't leave her in this state. With the last of her magical reserves, she whispered incendio towards the body and began spinning the time-turner as she watched the inferius catch fire.

She was completing the fifth rotation and sagging to the ground as exhaustion set in when a strangled growl came from above her. She looked up to see the werecat, cross-eyed and broken, launching itself from the top of the giant's body towards her. She cried out and twisted away, losing her grip on the old time-turner in the process. It began to spin wildly out of control with their momentum, but neither Hermione, the time-turner, nor the werecat ever hit the ground.

The familiar dance of time started around her, characters weaving in and out at the speed of light. It all blurred, the sun rising and setting fast enough to make her sick, and she closed her eyes tightly against the onslaught of images. When the world stopped spinning minutes later, Hermione landed and promptly vomited, right on someone's highly polished quidditch boot. Voices came and went, and someone started shouting for help.

Well, if they're trying to help me they can't also be trying to kill me. Hermione thought this was an excellent piece of reasoning for someone in her condition. She hoped that logic was sound, because as soon as she thought it, she slipped away into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

"And you don't know anything else?"

"No, I'm sorry. She came in without even a wand."

Low voices carried on a conversation nearby. Hermione guessed they were talking about her, but she didn't want to wake up yet. She was in a bed- a real, proper bed, not a stone floor or a camping cot or a pile of blankets- and she snuggled deeper into the soft comforter, intending to stay as long as she could. She did a quick body scan, but she couldn't sense any really serious injuries. When the voices seemed to disappear she stretched out her tense muscles, then yelped as her calf seized in pain.

"Ah, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey said, coming right around the curtain blind. "I'm Madam Pomfrey, dear, and you've got quite the nasty bite on your leg. I've patched you up as best I can, but there's something not quite right about it. Do you remember how you got it?"

Hermione said nothing. Madam Pomfrey didn't know who she was, and that set off all kinds of warning bells in her head. Had she been obliviated to forget traitorous students? Or maybe she was being imperiused? The last thing she wanted was to tip off Voldemort that she'd escaped his death battle with a time-turner.

Madam Pomfrey looked at her through slitted eyes. "If you were out in the Forbidden Forest, we'll certainly be having words, but I'd rather know what you were up to so I can treat it."

"Unless, of course, you weren't on school grounds at all." Professor McGonagall said, coming around the corner herself.

"Professor," she breathed. Forgetting about her leg, she twisted out of the sheets and tried to get up. "I'm so glad I found you. Something terrible is about to happen, and-"

"Slow down, child," she said coming closer to prevent Hermione from getting up. "I'll certainly hear your predictions of doom and despair, but first I'd rather like to know who you are, and how you came to apparate onto the middle of the quidditch pitch."

"You too?" Hermione said, looking between Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, "It's me, Hermione. I know I haven't been around this year, but-"

"Hermione," Professor McGonagall said, tasting the word. "You seem to know me, but I know no one by that name. Is it possible you hit your head when you landed?"

Hermione paled. For the first time, she really looked at the two women. Professor McGonagall had hardly any grey hairs, and her face was curiously unlined. Madam Pomfrey, too, looked much younger than Hermione ever remembered seeing her.

"What year is it?"

"You see, Minerva, I told her she bumped her head. Probably someone trying to get an early seat for the first quidditch game of the year."

But Professor McGonagall was looking at Hermione with fresh eyes, taking in every detail in a way that made her squirm like a half-transfigured toad.

"Poppy, would you leave us alone for a minute? If I'm not mistaken, Miss Hermione might have some possibly...sensitive information."

Madam Pomfrey huffed, but backed out. "I'll be back in ten minutes to give you another blood replenishing potion, okay?"

"Yes, thank you Poppy," Professor McGonagall said as she pulled up a nearby chair and sat down.

"It's 1975, dear. When was it where you came from?"

Hermione gasped. That was...twenty-three years ago. She hadn't been born yet. Her parents hadn't even gotten married yet. She'd read about what happened when people used time-turners to go back more than a few days. Going back this far could cause at least fifteen different paradoxes, all of which could mean the end of the world. She covered her face with her hands and mumbled through her fingers.

"Professor, I swear I didn't mean to come back so far. Honestly, if there had been any other way I would have done that. But I saw your time-turner, and well, you've seen my leg, and-"

"I'm sorry, did you say, _my_ time-turner?"

Hermione fiddled with her blood-stained collar until she found the gold chain and pulled it out. "I didn't think you'd mind. You were..." she almost said _you were dead_ , but thought better of it. "You were unable to give me permission, so I did what I had to."

"Don't say anything," Professor McGonagall said, all the blood suddenly drained from her face as if she'd guessed Hermione's unspoken words. She looked at Hermione like she'd just breathed fire or acid, but still she came closer to look at the tiny, golden piece in her hand. Minutes later, she let out a shaky breath. "That is indeed my time-turner, Hermione, but I ask that you don't reveal anything more about the future. I'm no longer sure I want to know what year you came from."

"You believe me?" she said, surprised at the lack of security questions.

"I'd never willingly part with that time-turner, not to mention I'm wearing the same one right now," she said, pulling it out and holding the two next to each other. They were identical, three concentric circles with swirling, intricate runes written all along the edges, and a delicate hourglass in the middle with grains of iridescent sand.

"You can keep the twin you acquired," she said, putting her own back safely hidden among her robes. "But I would caution you about using it further."

Hermione shook her head. "I need to use it, just once more. Please, I must insist you send me back. I'm a danger to the timelines here at Hogwarts. I've traveled... well, more than a decade. That's all I'll say, to give you a sense of the magnitude. I'm a walking paradox like this."

"Paradoxes are nonsense," Professor McGonagall said, waving her hand airily, "And Hogwarts is the safest place for you with all those death eaters running around. They would just love to find a witch with full knowledge of the future. No, you will stay right here."

"No offense, professor, but I don't think that's possible. I don't have any family, a wand, any money at all-"

"Details can be dealt with later. Don't worry, we'll talk it all through. For now, focus on healing, and tell Madam Pomfrey as much as you can about that bite on your leg."

"Yes, Hermione, I really do need to know about that," the matron said, returning with the promised potion.

Hermione paled, having forgot all about the wound. "Honestly, I'm not sure what it was that attacked me. But it was the full moon…"

"Say no more," Madam Pomfrey said, her mouth forming a hard line for a moment, "I assumed as much, but wanted you to confirm it. We can deal with that quite easily, however. There's another student currently attending who you can spend the moons with."

Her words made Hermione spew out the potion she'd been in the middle of taking. How could she forget that crucial bit of information? Twenty-three years ago meant not only that she hadn't been born, but it also put Professor Lupin, Sirius, even Snape in school.

"Professor? Is she doing any better?" a boisterous voice said, coming around the privacy curtain.

Hermione could only stare as Madam Pomfrey tried to shoo the boy away. "Mister Black, I will not have you interrupting my patient's resting again. As you can see, she's no longer unconscious, but that will have to settle your curiosity until I've given her a clean bill of health."

"Aw, Madam P, how will she know her knight in shining armor if she doesn't meet me?" Sirius craned his neck around Madam Pomfrey and winked at Hermione. "Next time, you might try not hurling on a man's quidditch shoes, but I'd save you _any_ day."

Hermione's face burned as Sirius scampered away, leaving Professor McGonagall rolling her eyes. "And now that you've been flattered by Mister Black, you're properly initiated into Hogwarts. I'll leave you to get some rest, Miss Hermione…?"

"Granger, ma'am."

"Miss Granger. I'll return in a few hours and we can go over some logistics with regard to your position. Until then." She nodded by way of goodbye, leaving Hermione alone and still blushing.

* * *

In the end, Professor McGonagall and Hermione decided to tell people that she'd been home schooled. There had been a recent death eater attack on a muggle shopping mall where a dozen bodies were unable to be identified, and they decided to claim both her parents were there. It explained her coming to school mid-way through the year and also why she was far ahead of other students academically. Once Hermione had been declared recovered enough by Madam Pomfrey two days later, both Hermione and her favorite professor took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to pick up her supplies, robes, and a new wand, all paid for from the needy student scholarship fund.

The streets weren't nearly as crowded as they usually were when she went school supply shopping, and they had most of the stores to themselves on the chilly late-October morning. Hermione was grateful for this, seeing how she reacted while walking through the halls during a passing period at Hogwarts. A few children running toward her had her ducking and covering into the nearest empty classroom, rigid with fear. After this, they changed Hermione's story to say she'd been at the mall with her parents, hoping it would explain her dislike of crowds and loud noises.

"I'm here for a replacement want, sir," Hermione told Ollivander when he popped out from his large warehouse storeroom.

"Of course, of course, much too old to be getting your first. What kind of wand did you own previously? You didn't come here to get it."

Hermione was once again amazed at the wand maker's memory. "No, sir. But it was vinewood, 10 ¾ with dragon heartstring."

"Funny, I just finished making one of those last week, the first I've ever made. I'll bring it out and let you see how it's better than whomever you bought it from last time."

She was very surprised, however, when the wand felt absolutely lifeless in her hands, refusing to even spark when she pointed it.

"Nothing to fret about, dear," Ollivander said kindly, taking the wand back, "sometimes wands get jealous of your previous wands and refuse to play along, or sometimes your personality shifts. Any big changes in your life?"

She nodded, looking at the floor.

"Ah, not the good kind of life change then. Hang on, I think I've got something that might help."

Something about the wand maker's third offering, after the fir and the holly, felt familiar as she swished it around. When bird-shaped sparks sprout from the tip, she knew this wand was all her own.

"Ah, the English Oak," Ollivander said smiling, "a wand of springtimes and new beginnings. And the dragon heartstring core is familiar enough to you, though I'm surprised at such a difference in size from your last. I'm sure you'll adjust to the extra three inches quickly." Hermione agreed and thanked the old man, leaving the seven galleons on his counter as he'd already gone back into his cramped storeroom.

Hermione and Minerva, as she'd asked Hermione to call her in private, discussed many things on the trip back. They covered her six years already spent at Hogwarts, how she was already a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and especially her questions about time travel, all before reaching the gates of Hogwarts.

"Can you explain something to me, Prof- Minerva? In the hospital ward, you said that paradoxes were nonsense. What did you mean?"

Minerva thought for a moment before answering. "What do you know about the story of Madam Eloise Mintumble?"

"That's the cautionary tale of time-travel. She was a witch who went back in time almost five hundred years, and when she they pulled her back she aged all five hundred of those and died. Plus, after she returned, a number of people died from 'un-births' and time behaved very strangely, either speeding up or slowing down for a few days until it recalibrated."

"Exactly. And what lesson is that supposed to teach to students of time magic?"

"Don't go back more than a few hours and don't be seen, chiefly."

"Correct again. Notice that none of the paradoxes were ever realized until she went _back_ to her original timeline. Now Hermione, did my future self ever reveal that I used to work for the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione's shocked face must have given her away, and Minerva chuckled. "Let me guess, you thought I worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Yes, that's a common cover story, but you can't have anyone knowing where you really work. It was very exciting for me as a young woman fresh out of Hogwarts, being down there with all these secrets no one could know about."

"The two years I worked there were full of theoretical knowledge, reading from the most restricted books in England and learning from some of the most brilliant time-theorists in the past. The most relevant for you will be a Lord Abrams from late eighteenth century Scotland. The history books, if they mention him at all, call him a nutter, but that's for you to decide. You can borrow my copy of his book and read up on your own, if you like.

"Lord Abrams claimed time, well, at least Magical time, was a sentient thing, capable of thinking and acting on its own. He hypothesized that, as a sentient creature, it prized its existence over everything else, and would protect that existence- and by extension the entire magical world- if it were threatened.

"The core of his theory was that time could run into dead-ends occasionally, paths down which magical time and the magical world would come to an end, with 100% certainty. Lord Abrams said that in such instances, time itself would revert back to the last point in its past where it had the best chance of surviving, a tipping point if you will, and start itself over from there with one single difference in the timeline. That difference could be a geological disaster or a biological mutation, but most often it involved a witch or wizard, as they have the most agency and therefore the largest ability to cause change.

"I don't know the world you came from, Hermione, but from what you've told me, there's evidence that points to it being one of these 'dead ends.' That's only for you to decide, of course."

Hermione thought about this as they climbed the hill that led to Hogwart's gates. "I suppose it doesn't really matter what I think about this particular theory, though. If the only way to return is to have someone pull me back, I'm stuck here. There's no one there who knows I've gone, so I can't age twenty some-odd years or create paradoxes or cause un-births or anything."

"That's correct."

"Then why bring it up?"

Professor McGonagall smiled as they crossed over onto Hogwarts property. "Ask me again after you've read the book. You can swing by my office after we sit for dinner and get you settled into your room. Which reminds me, you have a few options for that, assuming you'd like to remain in Gryffindor?" Hermione nodded. "Very well. Among the sevenths years there, we have no female students. A real shame, as the Ravenclaws of that year are bursting with terrific, quidditch-playing witches. You could either live among the sixth-year ladies or have your own room."

Hermione's stomach rumbled. "Can we put off the move-in until dinner?"

"Of course, if that's what you want. Meet me in the great hall after you've finished and we'll head up."

* * *

The Great Hall was the same as always, the large ceiling twinkling as it showed a sky full of stars above the ravenous students. Hermione moved towards the Gryffindor table, her robes already matching the red and gold of her housemates.

"Look, boys! It's my damsel in distress!" called the voice of Sirius Black from the seat closest to the head table, making the rest of the students who hadn't already noticed her turn and stare. Hermione's face flushed as she tried not to run back out the doors and eat dinner with the house elves.

"Come, my fair witch, sit with us!" he called again, pointing to an empty seat across from him. She scanned the rest of the tables, but even without any seventh year girls, Gryffindor was pretty packed. Begrudgingly, she sucked up her courage, ignored everyone, and walked the length of the Great Hall until she stood at the end of the table.

"You don't have to sit there if you don't want to," a redhead said a few seats down, "Black just assumes it's everyone's greatest pleasure in life to be in his company."

"I am a delight and a proper good time," he said back, smiling as he took a swig of his pumpkin juice, "You, Lily Evans, just don't know how to have fun."

Hermione did a double take. Everyone was always telling Harry how he had his mother's eyes, and now she could see for herself. Unlike Harry though, she had red hair a few shades darker than the Weasley's and it flowed smoothly down her back. She gave Lily a smile.

"You can sit next to Alice and I, here," Lily suggested, moving her plate of shepherd's pie over a little as the rest of the girls re-shuffled to make room half-way down the table.

Hermione was grateful and sat down immediately, her face still burning. "Thanks. I'm Hermione."

"Hi, Hermione," said Alice, sticking out her hand and shaking it gently, "your hair is really beautiful."

Hermione laughed and nervously twirled one of the corkscrews around a finger. Alice must just have been saying so to be nice, since she hadn't done so much as run a detangling spell through her hair since she'd arrived. "Thanks. It certainly was a mess when I was younger."

"Well you've tamed it now," she said, smiling. "Can I introduce you to people? It must be hard being new. I'm Alice and you've met Lily. And the other fifth year girls are Dorcas next to me," she said, indicating a cheery girl next to her who had a faraway look in her eyes and was twirling a fork through her hair, "and next to that toerag Black is Marlene-"

"Hey watch it, Alice," the girl Marlene said through a mouthful of food, "This toerag and I are going to be the ones crushing Hufflepuff to the ground in tomorrow's scrimmage."

Alice rolled her eyes. "The last of the girls in our year is Mary, but she's already back in the room. You can meet her later. And Sirius' other boys here are Peter and James," she said, pointing them out in turn.

Peter was wolfing down his pie and nodded with a big, full smile in greeting, but James and reached out his hand to shake.

Hermione's mouth hung open a little as she shook hands with the spitting image of her best friend. After the slew of names and introductions she was sure she'd never remember, seeing James' face was like finding an anchor in the middle of a storm. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to brush the hair out of James' forehead to look for the familiar scar.

"Hey! _I'm_ the one who saved you," Sirius said, though he sounded far away, "not bloody Potter. He couldn't be a knight in shining armor if someone stuck Lily up in a tower and stuck a dragon below."

"I could too," James said, but there wasn't much energy in his retort. He was spending it all trying not to move too much as the new girl traced his face with her fingers.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said after a moment, shaking herself out of whatever dream she'd fallen into. "It's just… you look so much like my... brother." It was easier that way, and Harry had always said she was like a sister to him. She didn't feel bad about the white lie.

Their end of the Great Hall fell silent until Lily spoke up. "Professor McGonagall told us yesterday about your family. We're really sorry."

Hermione nodded, twisting her hands in her lap. "It's ok. Well, no, it's not, but it will be. That's why I came. Fresh start."

Desperate to break the somber tension, Alice started peppering Hermione with innocuous questions ranging from her favorite book to best subject to her year in school.

"Well, I was homeschooled, so I'll have to test for every subject before they'll place me. I expect to be in mostly N.E.W.T level classes, though, based on what my previous, uh, tutors told me. But Professor McGonagall says there aren't any seventh year girls in Gryffindor? She said I could have the space to myself, but I don't know."

"Ooo!" Alice squealed, making all the other girls laugh, "you could bunk with us!"

"Allie, don't you think it's already a little crowded in our room?" Marlene said, "No offense, Hermione."

"Oh, the room will accommodate, it always does," Lily said. "If Hermione came, Marlene, there'd be another muggleborn in the room. We'd be split half and half." Lily waggled her eyes to drive home some unknown point, but Marlene ate it up.

"YES! Ok, changed my mind, you're coming with us."

"What about the sixth years?" Hermione asked, overwhelmed at the thought of sharing a room with so many girls. Parvati and Lavender had been hard enough to room with. But six girls?

"They're over there," the fork-twirling girl whose name Hermione had already forgotten said, pointing with the same fork towards the Ravenclaw table. "See those two blonde girls with the Gryffindor ties? That's Nicholata Fawley and Rosie Abbott."

Hermione saw them alright. They were practically draped across the laps of two Ravenclaw boys and oozing infatuation hormones.

"Right. Fifth year dorm it is," Hermione said and a cheer went through the little cluster of girls. She tried to smile along, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Well, thank you for welcoming me," she said standing up, though she'd hardly touched her food. "I promised Professor McGonagall I'd meet her after dinner to go over a few things. I guess I'll see you upstairs?"

They all agreed and waved her off. Sirius, who'd been planning his quidditch strategy with Marlene, recognized her leaving and stood on his bench.

"My love! I shall wait a thousand years for your return!" he said, sniggering with Peter and James. Hermione, who'd had quite enough by this point, continued walking away but aimed a bat-boogey hex at him backward, one Ginny would have been proud of. She didn't turn around to watch his reaction, but she heard the sticky, flapping noise and the loud whoops and cheers from those who'd seen.

The walk to Gryffindor tower with Professor McGonagall was a quiet one. All she could think about was Harry and James. A gnawing sensation started in her stomach, and she wondered if she'd ever be able to look at the later without seeing the former.

The last time she saw Harry alive, he was covered with dirt, blood, sweat, and grime. She'd offered to go with him to the forest; she knew what he had to do. But he wanted her to take care of the snake. In the end, she'd hardly done anything. Neville was the one who finished Nagini off, which should have solved the problem. But something happened to Harry and the piles of dead bodies began to rise. No one got Bellatrix (though Hermione knocked herself out trying), no one got Dolohov, no one got Voldemort. Her eyes started to prick as she passed the hallway where she'd found Molly Weasley, her tears threatening to spill over. Instead, she rubbed the heels of her palms into both eyes, forcing the tears back.

As they rounded the corner, McGonagall asked if she'd decided on her living situation.

"I think I'd like to take the seventh year's room, if that's alright. It'll be… quieter."

The Professor stopped and eyed Hermione carefully, taking note of her red, rubbed eyes. "Do you remember what Ollivander said about springtime and new beginnings? It would be good for you to create a new sort of family for yourself here among the students, starting with some roommates. Isolation is never the answer to a traumatic incident, or a traumatic life, as it sounds like you've had. You would do well to live with others."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione sighed, knowing she was right. "In that case, the fifth year girls have already invited me to live with them. Would that be alright?"

"It's a bit unorthodox, but I think we can make an exception. Those are a good bunch of girls, very tight knit and… light. I think you'll do well with them."

The Fat Lady opened to the password _Godric's Pants_ , which Professor McGonagall grimaced at, and Hermione walked into her second favorite place in the world.

"Oh hello, Professor," a boy around her age said, getting up off the couch where he'd been reading. "Is this the new student?" He smiled at her, twisting his fingers around the fraying edges of his robe.

"It is," she said, "Hermione, I'd like you to meet Mister Lupin. This is the student I mentioned you'd be, er, spending some time with. Remember?"

Hermione hadn't heard a word of what Professor McGonagall said. The boy in front of her was nothing like the man who taught her defense against the dark arts and fought with her in the Battle of Hogwarts. This boy had a full, thick head of beautiful blonde hair, not a line or wrinkle on his face, and he was staring at her with undisguised wonder.

"Woah."

* * *

A/N: Huzzah! I think this wins the award for longest chapter I've ever written. I'm also on vacation all weeks, so I expect I'll get tons of stuff written and uploaded in a timely manner.

What did you like best?


	3. Chapter 3

Remus shook his head slightly then stuck out his hand "Remus Lupin. It's nice to meet you, Hermione."

"Remus is also a prefect in Gryffindor, so I leave it to him to answer any questions you may have," Professor McGonagall said. "Also, here's the book we spoke of. We can catch up later in the week to go over it, if you like. If you're interested, I'm sure Mister Lupin can show you the location of my office."

"Of course I can, ma'am," he said, though his eyes never left Hermione's.

"Good. And Hermione? Professor Dumbledore apologizes for not meeting with you in person before the start of your year, but he is off on business. He asks that I pass along his welcome, and promises to meet with you the next chance he gets."

A shiver crawled up Hermione's spine. She had no wish to see that man, whose plans and scheming she blamed for most of the deaths in her time, but she didn't argue with her head of house.

"Alright then," Professor McGonagall smiled, "good night to you both."

When the two were alone in the common room together, he returned to his seat on the couch, patting the spot next to him. "So, you're the werewolf?"

She took the seat, her knees bumping into his as she sat. "Well, to be honest I don't know what I am. It was dark, and I didn't quite see what got me. It didn't look like a werewolf, though."

Remus' lip curled. "No blood dripping from its muzzle, I take it? Those are just fairy stories, Hermione. Well, most of the time"

"No, I've met a werewolf on the full moon before. I know what they look like," she said, not able to look Remus in the eye when she said this, thinking back to the horror of watching him transform. Is that what it would be like for her?

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, saying her name again and reaching out to squeeze her hand. "It's not pleasant, meeting a werewolf. I'm surprised you survived that first encounter, honestly."

"Yeah, me too," she said, though she didn't explain any more. "But whatever attacked me earlier didn't quite look the same."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. I'm really am excited to spend the night with you. I mean-" he stopped, his hands waving out in front of him. "Not like that. Sorry. I've never really been around another werewolf, or a were-anything before."

"I can't say I'm excited to do all this, but I am grateful that you'll be there my first moon."

"That's right!" he grinned, "You're just a pup! Oh don't worry, you'll get all these neat side effects after your first one. Your sense of smell gets overwhelmed and you want to just stick cotton balls up your nostrils, and you get cranky and snap at your friends, and you won't believe-"

Hermione sagged into the couch, feeling tired just thinking about it. Remus seemed to notice, and he tried to tone it down accordingly. "Anyways. We've got almost a month before the next moon. We can talk about it later, if you want. Anytime, really. Are you going to take the seventh years' room? It's empty since Amelia's parents pulled her out. I can't help you up the stairs since boys aren't allowed, but I can give you directions."

She smiled at his rambling. Remus was adorable as a teenager. "No, the fifth years invited me to bunk with them."

"You dodged a bullet, then. The sixth years are nutters. Why don't you head up? You've had a busy couple days. Fifth year dorm is the fifth door up through that door over there." He seemed to notice his mouth running away from him again and he cleared his throat. "Or so I'm told."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Remus."

"You're welcome. Goodnight, Hermione." There was that look again. He was staring at her like he couldn't believe she was real.

It took her a second to move away, and even while she was climbing the stairs she could feel him staring at her from the couch. It was a good feeling, having someone staring at her for a reason other than wanting to kill her.

The door on the fifth year's room was covered with five handmade nameplates. The one bearing Alice's name was written like scrawling ivy, and Lily's was charmed to crackle and pop like flames. The letters in Marlene's name whizzed around her plate until they rearranged themselves in order, and the girl Mary, who she hadn't seen at dinner, had an all-black plate with her name in an elegant silver script. The last of the nameplates wasn't written in any language Hermione knew, and she guessed that one belonged to Dorcas. Hermione pushed her way inside, wondering if they'd offer her a spot on the door.

"Is that you Dorcas? I need help with my- oh."

Mary was beautiful, Hermione thought. She had long, inky black hair which spilled over her shoulders, and a deep red nightgown which made her look much older than a fifth year. Hermione refused to feel intimidated, but this girl wore a look of disapproval which seemed permanently etched on her features.

"I wondered why a new space popped up," she said, tipping her head towards the untouched bed and mostly empty chest on the other side of the room. "It scared me half to death when I was in here reading and the whole room started shaking like an earthquake."

"Sorry about that," Hermione said, extending her hand, "I'm Hermione Granger. Your roommates invited me here instead of living alone in the seventh year's room. I hope that's ok."

"Even if it wasn't, I'd probably be outvoted," she said.

"Oh," Hermione said, wiping her hand over an imaginary wrinkle, "Well it's a really beautiful room. You guys are lucky."

Mary smiled. "You wouldn't, by chance, know anything about the Department of Mysteries, would you?" she asked with a penetrating gaze.

Hermione panicked. "No! What do you- I mean- I have no idea what-"

"Woah, calm down there, Granger," she said, holding up the book she'd been reading. The title read _The World of the Unspeakables._ "Just researching for a paper. I'd hoped you were Dorcas because she's great at History of Magic. But I won't ask for _your_ help, clearly."

Already, seven different explanations for her strange response popped into Hermione's head. But before she could offer any of them, the door banged open.

"Mary!" Dorcas shouted, then tossed a wrapped pork pie high in the air, which Mary caught with one hand.

"I see you've settled," Marlene said, flopping onto her bed, "and met our resident grumpy pants."

"At least I wear pants," Mary said, indicating Marlene's now bare legs and bright yellow boxer shorts. "Have some decency!"

"Nope," Marlene said, dodging the pillows thrown at her from the other girls, "Hermione, you might as well know- I hate pants."

Hermione smiled slightly, grateful that they weren't going to tiptoe around the 'new girl.' It was almost like bunking with Ginny again. Ginny, who never had a thought for personal modesty among other girls, taught Hermione way more about female anatomy than she ever wanted to know. Poor Ginny. Hermione took a seat on her new bed, her eyes feeling heavier by the minute.

"Alright now, Hermione," Lily said, lying on her stomach and propping her head up with a pillow, "what was all that between you and Sirius Black?"

"Sirius?" Mary echoed, eyes flicking back to Hermione with interest.

"Oh that," Hermione said, sitting up a little, "well my portkey was miscast, so I landed on the quidditch pitch instead of the headmaster's office. I hate portkeys, though, and when I landed… well, I threw up on Sirius' shoes. He was the one who brought me to the hospital wing, I guess."

Marlene rolled her eyes. "So now he thinks he owns you, right? He thinks he saved you, so he called dibs and now he's being a prat?"

"Sounds like someone could use a reminder of who's in charge around here," Lily said, grinning.

"Hermione already hexed him herself in the hall, which was great by the way," Alice said, "but doesn't that make her even already?"

"Maybe," Lily said, "but I need an excuse to try this new hair-removal powder on Potter, and I can't think of a better reason to try it."

"Hermione, what do you think?" Marlene asked, "Want to prank Sirius with us to get him off your back?"

"I don't think so," she said, wanting nothing more than to sleep. "You can of course. I'm sure hair-removal powder would be really funny. I'm just tired."

All the girls understood. Professor McGonagall had met the four girls coming back from the Great Hall when they were in the common room and she reminded them that their new roommate had been through a lot, and would need some space and time to adjust.

"Of course," Dorcas said, going around and closing the window curtains, "we all need to head to the library anyways to work on some papers. It'll be nice and quiet up here for you."

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling at them as they grabbed their books and left. When she was finally alone, she closed the curtains around her bed and immediately put up all the familiar wards. Her breath caught a little, realizing she hadn't set up these wards since she used them in the tent for Harry, Ron, and herself. Red hair and messy black used to be the last thing she saw at night. Her boys. A tear leaked out and she wiped it away a little too harshly. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

" _Psst, Hermione!"_

 _She peered around the big, white column she was hiding behind. Harry was hiding with Ron behind a separate one, but Harry was motioning for her to join them. She looked around to make sure the coast was clear, but neither the Malfoys or the Snatchers were anywhere in sight. She darted out from behind one column to the other, but her footsteps on the polished, marble floor made loud echoes throughout the house._

" _Run!" Ron yelled, pointing behind her as Fenir Greyback came around the corner. The three of them took off, heading up the stairs, through the hallways, down the stairs, through passages. They were always losing ground on the half-transformed werewolf. He snarled and roared behind them, causing Ron to trip up and fall behind._

" _RON NO!" Hermione shouted, but Harry pulled her arm forward, forcing her to keep running away from Ron's screams._

 _After a few minutes, Harry and Hermione lost him and stopped to catch their breath in the center foyer, panting hard. Hermione's chest felt like it was going to cave in, and she was struggling to stay upright._

 _Just then, a terrific howl came from the balcony above, and a now fully-transformed were-thing lept down two stories, jaws wide, straight at Hermione._

"NO! No, no no no," Hermione yelled, kicking her covers off and launching herself out of bed. She landed awkwardly on her shoulder, which fully woke her up.

She was at Hogwarts. She was safe. She covered her mouth, going completely silent in the hopes that she hadn't woken anyone. Her heart was pounding as she listened in the dark, waiting for a telltale yawn or movement, but there was nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she slipped on a pair of socks and tiptoed down to the common room with Professor McGonagall's book. Tomorrow, she'd ask Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep, but for now, she'd just have to stay awake. The large clock in the common room read only half past one. Hermione yawned, then curled up by the dying fire and turned to the first page.

* * *

A/N: Alright! Two uploads in a week! Thank you to everyone who's somehow let me know they're enjoying this. I'm glad. :)

Also, I've been writing like crazy and you should know I've already got fifteen more chapters planned. Buckle up, guys, this one's going to be massive. (Not _Debt of Time_ massive, but still. Really big for me.)

Let me know what you liked best, and thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Hermione woke up tucked in a blanket and with her book neatly bookmarked and placed on the ground with a pepper-up potion. A note was tied to the neck of the little vial which read 'good luck on your tests today! -the girls.' The common room was empty, and the large clock showed she had only five minutes left.

Hermione swore and flung herself off the couch. She raced down the corridors, nearly bowling over some first years in her attempt to meet Professor McGonagall on time. She managed to snatch some bacon of Alice's plate before meeting the stern-looking witch at the head table of the Great Hall.

"Cutting it close, Ms. Granger," she said, frowning. "Follow me."

Hermione spent the entire day in testing. Whenever a professor had a free period, they'd stop by the empty classroom to drill her in every branch of magic. Each time it was the same; after the first few questions, they all realized what a depth of knowledge she had, and the questions got impossibly difficult. By the end of the day, Hermione was struggling to keep her face off her dinner plate.

"How do you think you did?" Dorcas asked, her head tilted slightly to the side in a way that reminded her of Luna.

"Well enough," Hermione finally answered, rubbing her shoulder from where Marlene flicked her to get her attention, "I hadn't done some subjects in a long time, though, and I'm not sure I'll even been in N.E.W.T. level classes for them. Especially potions. Merlin, that was difficult. Is Professor Slughorn always so exact?"

"Oh yes," Dorcas said, "he is ever so nice, though. He likes to offer potions as prizes to students who do well."

Hermione remembered that from her own timeline, still miffed that Harry had stolen the Liquid Luck from her with Professor Snape's textbook. She wondered if Snape's fifth year potions textbook was as interesting as his sixth year's. She turned towards the Slytherin table, realizing she didn't get a look at her old professor during yesterday's meal.

She found Snape quickly enough, sitting at the far edge of the table. He was mostly alone save for a younger boy who seemed to be talking Snape's ear off. He hadn't changed much, with his nose still hooked and his hair still greasy, but it was surprising to see the features on such a young face. The war must have aged him a great deal.

"That's Severus Snape," Dorcas said, following her line of sight. "Are you interested?"

Hermione's face contorted in disgust. "Merlin, no. He just...looks lonely."

"I suppose he is," Dorcas agreed. "He and Lily are friends, sort of."

"Who am I friends with?" asked Lily, coming over and dropping her book bag.

"Severus Snape. Sort of," Dorcas repeated.

Lily's face looked lost for a moment as she sought out the Slytherin across the hall. "We were childhood friends," she agreed softly. "He was the one who recognized I was a witch and explained what that meant. He doesn't talk to me much anymore, though."

Hermione had no idea Snape knew Lily so well. She could just imagine Harry's reaction; he'd probably go mental, pretending to vomit or maybe vomiting for real. Ron would start calling him "Mister Harry Snape" and grab a black mess of Hermione's yarn to stick on his head. Then he'd have to duck before he'd get hit in the nose. She snorted at the mental image, even as her eyes misted over.

"Now what's so funny?" said Harry- no, _James_ Potter as he sat next to her and across from Lily.

Hermione sucked in a breath and the boy's outline blurred underneath her tears.

"Hey, hey!" he said, looking bewildered, "I just heard you laugh! But now you're crying!"

"Just because _you_ have the emotional range of a teaspoon," she muttered.

"I'll have you know I can feel five whole different emotions," he said, puffing out his chest. "And I want to know what you were laughing at. I bet I'm way funnier than whatever it was."

"It was my brother, hence the laughing and crying bit," she said, wiping her eyes. "He would have some very interesting things to say if he ever met that boy Snape over there. We used to know someone like him, and the two of them butted heads constantly."

"Well your brother had right good taste," James said, oblivious to Lily's hard stare. "Did this lot tell you how Snivilus jinxed my broom in the last Slytherin/Gryffindor game last year?"

"No," Lily interjected, "but we could have just as easily told her about how you sabotaged Severus' transfiguration final in third year by transfiguring _him_ into a toad!"

"You know I only did that because _he_ -"

"It doesn't matter! You both are always getting on my nerves! Who cares who did what?" Lily said, getting up and marching out of the hall, her red hair bouncing behind her.

Not knowing what to say to comfort James, who looked like he'd been slapped, she turned her attention back on her peas. The rest of the meal was quiet as the fifth years came and went through. This included a still rambling Remus, who told her all about his terrible potion skills and 'okay' class in defense, but Hermione couldn't find the motivation to get up when he left for the library. Finally, when the last of the plates disappeared and the house elves started to pop in to clean, she decided it was time to go. Snape was still sitting, now totally alone, at the edge of the table with a book. She walked towards him, wanting to feel out whether he was already lost to the death eaters, but something else caught her eye.

Two unknown Slytherin boys were whispering and pointing at Snape from farther down the long table. They looked like seventh years with their five o'clock shadows and their huge robes they were pulling their wands out of. Not thinking, Hermione threw up a protego between Snape and the boys, her mind automatically jumping tracks and putting her in battle mode. A second later, the madidus curse rebounded back on the boys, absolutely soaking them.

"You git!" they shouted, pointing at Snape and shaking off their dripping robes. "You learn wandless, non-verbal magic or something?"

They pulled up into a dueling stance, but Hermione rushed forward, taking a similar position. She conjured a flock of birds with a whispered _avis_ and sent them to attack before the boys could blink.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Snape yelled, knocking her over and calling off the attacking birds with a spell she'd never heard of.

The boys were fuming and covered in peck-marks. "Glad your _girlfriend's_ here, Severus." They said it like a curse, and Hermione imagined they already knew she was muggleborn, somehow.

Snape's cheeks were a dark red in an instant. He gritted his teeth and turned on Hermione who was still on the ground. "Get. Out."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She'd almost made it to the great doors before Snape yelled after her, "I'll get you back!"

His voice seemed to echo all the way down the hall, and Hermione was still trying to shake how similar it sounded to her old professor when she finally stepped through the Fat Lady's portrait.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione got her scores from Professor McGonagall.

"You got... eleven N.E.W.T.s?" Remus asked, the first one of the ten fifth years at the table to break the shocked silence.

"Most of them were only an A," she said, "and I guessed on a lot of them."

"Hermione, you don't just _guess_ your way to eleven N.E.W.T.s," Lily said, looking at her like she'd sprouted wings or turned into a unicorn.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Miss Evans is correct. You earned those N.E.W.T.s honorably. I was especially impressed with your transfiguration exam. Mr. Black will tell you I am not easily impressed."

"Minne won't even _smile_ at me during class!" he complained, spewing bits of the muffin he'd stuffed in his mouth as he spoke.

"Let me see that," Remus said snatching her evaluation results. His eyes scanned the page before coming to the final score. His mouth opened wide, then closed. He repeated this a few times, looking between Hermione and the page, eventually pointing at it with a confused "huh?" directed towards Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Mister Lupin, Hermione did indeed earn _above_ an O on her Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. Her dueling is unlike any I've seen from a student in many years."

"Yes, well, let me keep my grades to myself, thank you," Hermione said, snatching the paper out of Remus' hands. Anyone could be listening to their conversation, and she wasn't interested in her dueling abilities being widely known.

"Are you kidding?" Marlene said, "I'd be standing on the table crowing like a rooster if I got scores like that. Hell, I'd be flying _off_ the table and onto a professional quidditch pitch if I already had my N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione shook her head. She'd decided even before getting her scores that she deserved a seventh year at Hogwarts. Plus, Minerva had been right in the hospital wing. Hogwarts was the safest place for her at the moment. "I'd like to take the N.E.W.T. level classes for any subject I didn't earn an O in, if you'll allow it, Professor."

Professor McGonagall didn't look surprised. She pulled a roll of parchment from the sleeve of her robe and handed it to her with a smile. "Hurry up with your breakfast, then. You've got Herbology with Miss Brown first period."

Alice grinned at Hermione. "I'll help you with your seedlings first thing. You'll be a few weeks behind, but Professor Sprout has some grow-vine you can use to catch up. Oh this is going to be so exciting! I don't know anyone in class otherwise!"

Hermione could see Neville shining through his mother then, and for the rest of breakfast. She continued to babble on about how she was allowed to take her herbology O.W.L in third year instead of fifth, how her mandrakes were doing, and how she tamed her wild begonias. She could see Neville's kindness in her too, later when they were at their workbenches elbow deep in magically enhanced soil.

"Lily and I heard you last night, stumbling around and muttering to yourself," she said, barely above a whisper, "and you didn't sound so good. Are you ok?"

"Were you guys the ones who put the pepper-up potion on my book yesterday?" When Alice nodded, Hermione sighed. "I'm... alright. I have nightmares, is all. I forgot to get some Dreamless Sleep from Madam Pomfrey, but I'll be sure to get some before tonight. I don't want you all waking up because of me."

"Oh no, we wake up anyways," she said, smoothing over the flowerbed and Hermione's conscience, "but Lily wanted me to pass on that if you want, you can talk to her. You can talk to me too, of course, but Lily's got some experience in mind-healing."

"Like, counseling?"

"I think that's what the muggles call it, yeah," Alice said, "and that's how Lily got interested in it anyways. But mind-healing involves more than just talking. You'd have to ask Lily for specifics, but I know she's helped out others. Remus, for example."

Hermione felt herself flush a little just hearing his name, and of course Alice had to be perceptive enough to notice. She waggled her eyes.

"You know Defense is his best subject? I thought he was going to start drooling when he saw your scores."

Hermione dug her hand into the soil and scooped out a handful. "Does he have a girlfriend, by any chance?"

"Ooo, Hermione!" she giggled flicking some dirt at her. "You will have to be careful, though. There is a Hufflepuff girl who's been in and out of the picture, but I'm not sure where they are now. Her name's Victoria something. But I've never seen him look at a girl the way he looked at you during breakfast, though. Practically wanted to make a meal out of you."

Blushing furiously, Hermione had to agree with her. Once he stopped gaping at her like a fish, the look in his eyes was something between envy and longing. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh just thinking about that look, and she wondered if his mouth did anything besides just open and shut.

"Oi, quit thinking about your man and help me with this," Alice said. Even though she made a joke of it, Hermione knew how seriously she took herbology. She took a second to clear her mind before focusing back on class. She could find Remus in the library afterwards, she was sure.

* * *

A/N: You guys don't _actually_ think I'll give you a nice, pleasant, walk-in-the-park relationship though, do you? Enjoy the fluff while it lasts. You've got two or three chapters til chaos. :)

Also, I realize I never specified what the M rating will be for, so I'll say that now: violence, language, and some sexual scenes.

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Despite searching through every stack of the library, Hermione couldn't find Remus. She liked to think she knew the library better than anyone, but this had her wondering if there were secret passages and nooks that lived and died as Marauder secrets.

But she just _knew_ he was here, so she decided to wait him out. Her new classes assigned plenty of homework, after all. She picked out a spot far back near the restricted section, but with a clear view of the library's doors. It wasn't long before she got sucked into her history of magic textbook like a first year all over again. She'd missed being in the large, dim space where the only sounds were shuffling papers, the only smell was slightly ancient and dusty. She closed her eyes and soaked everything in like recharging a battery.

" _Muffilato_."

Hermione knew that voice, and the spell even better. She whipped out her wand and pointed it at the stack in front of her, or rather, the person she knew must be standing on the other side of said stack. She grinned at her luck; she'd been wanting to try this counter-charm for a while.

" _Auditoro_."

"-and then he'll be ready?"

"Precisely," a second, also male voice answered, "though you have to bring him a sort of…pledge gift."

"Of what nature?"

"It can be anything, really. You don't have to bring a body, of course. Just proof that something is your own work. Something that shows off your loyalty. I'm sure you catch my meaning."

"So, does it need to be a- HEY!"

Hermione backpedaled from the stack where she'd had one ear pressed against a gap, a gap that was now filled on the other side with the angry face of a Slytherin she didn't know. Immediately, she started stuffing her bag with every parchment and book she'd sprawled out on the desk, but the body-bind came faster. Try as she might, it was like being frozen solid- cold, uncomfortable, and desperately hard to breath through.

"Seems we've caught ourselves a little bird, Severus. A _nosey_ bird." The boy who'd cast the bind came around the corner, glaring. He looked like the type who played with his food before eating, but Snape was making a beeline to Hermione before he could.

"You," he snarled, "How could you hear us?"

The other boy loosened her mouth and the rest of her face enough to speak. "I couldn't hear anything. Thought it was strange to see your mouths moving but no words coming out. I was trying to see if it was just a low whisper or something but-"

"Liar," the Slytherin said carelessly, twirling his wand in the hand not perched on his hip.

"Think _really_ hard," Snape said, crossing his arms.

"Auditoro," Hermione whispered.

Snape seethed. "And you knew the counter charm to a charm I'd _just invented_ how, exactly?"

She had no excuse he would accept, so she kept her mouth shut, staring back with all the intimidating force she could muster.

But Snape and his head of thick, slimy hair was an immovable object, and he did not crack. After a few, tense moments of staring into his uncomfortably black eyes, the older Slytherin released Hermione from the body bind. She gulped down lungfuls of air in relief.

"As much fun as this is," the other boy drawled, checking his cuticles, "I have a few other meetings to attend to this evening. Think on what I said, Severus."

Snape immediately broke the staring contest and rushed after him, trying to convince his friend to stay, but the boy with the short, cropped hair moved on. Once he'd left, Snape, taking a deep breath to regain his composure, turned on Hermione. She was finished packing her bag when she felt his wand at the base of her throat.

"What do you want from me, exactly?"

 _Think, Hermione, think! How do you lie to a snake?_

"I'm friends with Lily," she said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind which had nothing to do with the future.

"Oh, and she's sent _you_ to fight her battles for her, hm?" Snape said, pushing a little harder with his wand. "Try again, charm thief."

"You know what? No," she said, pulling out her own wand and landing it on his jugular before he could react. "I have my reasons. I don't need to tell you what they are."

He narrowed his eyes. "I bet you're a… a filthy... _mudblood_ , aren't you?" he said, finally spitting the word out. He looked proud, like he deserved a prize for saying it.

Hermione rolled her eyes and put her wand down to pull up her sleeve. Snape pressed his wand into her throat harder in suspicion, but he went slack when she showed him Bellatrix's parting gift. A part of her enjoyed watching his mouth open in horror and seeing the fear in his eyes. The other part, though, was just envious of his innocence.

"Pick your friends carefully," she hissed, then left him wide-eyed and alone in the stacks.

* * *

The walk towards Gryffindor Tower didn't calm her down as much as she hoped, so she turned down a random corridor to make it longer. Again and again, she let the castle lead her around in loops and laps, through doors and into dead ends, and around and around until she was thoroughly worn out. It was almost dark before she felt like herself again, and by then she could smell the sweet scent of treacle tart coming from the Great Hall. Still, she needed to grab her astronomy things before class that evening.

"Hi, Mary," she said, entering the dorm and seeing her roommate lounging on her bed again with books spread around her in a semi-circle. Mary made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement but didn't look up. She looked sad, Hermione though. So, feeling a little bit sorry for the girl she hardly ever saw leave the dorm room, Hermione reached out.

"Do you want me to bring you up some dinner? I don't see you going down very often, and-"

"I'm fine," she said, cutting her off sharply without looking. "Dorcas takes care of me."

Hermione was momentarily torn between wanting to make a good impression on her new roommate and feeling worried about her eating habits, but in the end her concern won out. "Are you sure? I'm just heading down there now and it wouldn't be any trouble-"

But the bed curtains swished shut before she could finish. _How rude,_ Hermione though. _I was only trying to be helpful. See if I ever offer you anything again._

Hermione grabbed her astronomy things in silence, and was about to leave when she heard giggling behind her. Stumbling through the doorway came Dorcas and a girl with platinum blonde hair, laughing their so hard they were crying. It was only when Dorcas tripped over an upturned broom cleaning kit that they broke apart.

Dorcas noticed Hermione when she sat up, rubbing her scuffed elbow. She grinned. "I didn't know you'd be up here! Hermione, I'd like you to meet my best friend, Pandora."

Pandora bounced up and dusted off her ankle-length sundress, then stuck out a long, pale arm. "Hello Hermione. Dorcas has said lovely things about you. How long have you been here?"

Hermione grasped her hand to shake it, but instead Pandora swung their arms back and forth together. They both smiled, and then Hermione recognized her. _Hello, Luna's Mom._ "Nice to meet you, Pandora. I just arrived at Hogwarts. Not yesterday, but the day before."

"No, silly, not at Hogwarts. I meant 1975. Dorcas was right, your aura is full of time-mites. You might want to get that checked before they make a mess of your mind."

Hermione froze at the first sentence. Her first, traitorous thoughts were, _if you can't lie to a snake, you can't lie to a future Lovegood. Luna could always see right through you._

 _Shut up_ , she told her traitorous part.

"Well I've always been from 1975," she started slowly, deciding that if she kept near to the truth she might fare better, "though I have done a bit of travelling in the past. Thanks for the tip about time-mites, by the way, I had no idea they could be a problem." At this point, Mary had stuck her head out from behind her bed curtains, her keen eyes flitting between Dorcas, Pandora, and Hermione, and looking very, very interested.

"Are you quite sure you haven't gotten lost, then?" Pandora asked with her brows knitted together, "That's quite a lot of time-mites for just a little travelling. Maybe you really jumped dimensions by mistake!" Ever the Ravenclaw, Pandora was about to go full-academic on her.

"Ah, no. Quite sure." Hermione said, edging towards the door. She knew if she got drawn into some long discussion, she'd probably give away everything. "Anyhow, I need to get down for dinner before astronomy. Thanks though!" And before anyone could respond, she dashed out.

* * *

"I was hoping you'd be down," Remus said, scooting over with a little half-smile when she appeared in the Great Hall, "I saved you a seat."

Hermione could hear the rest of her dorm mates making obnoxious kissy noises at her, but she sat down anyways. "Why do you boys always sit here, though? You're all the way up in the front."

"That would be my doing," Sirius said, taking a bow so low his nose nearly touched his plate of mashed potatoes, "Prongs and I got caught starting one too many food fights back in second year. They've had these two seats closest to the profs engraved especially for us ever since."

"And our mates are kind enough to sit here with us," James piped in.

"And _we_ sit here to keep tabs on what _they're_ doing," Marlene called from a few seats down.

"Speaking of which," Sirius said, elbowing Remus' plate out of the way so he was resting on table right in front of Hermione, "I know you _are_ a girl and all, but if you were to join the league of Marauders, the sides would be even- five versus five."

"Your nose is awful close to mine, Black," Hermione said, "I wouldn't want anything unpleasant to happen to it."

He pulled away like there were already bat bogeys coming out of it, but he was smiling like a maniac. "Oh that's exactly why I want her on the team. C'mon, 'Mione. What are those lovely witches up to? We know they're planning something."

"First, I don't do nicknames. But... I _did_ hear them working on something the other night."

A chorus of gasps came from the girls' side. "Hermione, you wouldn't-" "We trusted you-" "You were asleep!"

Hermione grinned evilly, ignoring them. "See? It's true."

James rubbed his hands together. "Finally! We've got a snitch! Always wanted one of those."

 _Be careful what you wish for_ , she thought sardonically. She managed not to look at Peter, but kept going. "Alright. So the other night, they were talking about bees."

"Bees!?" all four boys said, leaning away from her.

"Oh yes. They were talking about putting you all into your own beekeeper suits, and getting each of you your own little hive, and setting up a honey stand."

Remus was looking skeptical at this point. "Why would the girls do that?"

"Well, that way you could mind your own beeswax!"

Remus started laughing a howling laugh, slapping his leg in the process. "Get it? Cuz beeswax?"

The rest of the table just looked at him.

"What? It was a good joke," he said and sat up a bit straighter.

"Wasn't that funny, mate," Peter said, tucking his head down to hide his grin.

James and Sirius snickered at that while the girls looked on, curious.

"I happen to like puns! There's nothing wrong with that," Remus said, then flashed a smile at Hermione. "Hermione, feel free to make a pun at my expense any time."

He was looking at her from beneath those long lashes, his eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips. She saw him gulp, and there was something about watching his Adam's apple bob that made her mouth go dry. She licked her lips to moisten them again, and that's when she noticed that Remus' eyes had gone from green to golden.

"Hermione? Don't you have astronomy tonight? You're going to be late."

Both Remus and Hermione blinked, realizing at the same time that there were other people at the table, other people in the world. She apologized with a smile, and he reached over to quickly squeeze her hand.

"I'll see you later then?" he asked, immediately putting his hand into his pocket.

He'd touched her for less than a second, but the hairs on the back of her hand were standing up and her heart had skipped a beat. She didn't trust her tone of voice to not sound breathy, so she nodded instead and turned to go.

"Goodbye my love!" Sirius called out after her. "Until we meet again!"

Hermione heard a low growl after that, causing a slight blush to creep up her neck.

 _Imagine what your third year self would say,_ a prudish part of her mind whispered as she joined the flow of seventh year astronomy students heading for the tower. _He was your professor!_

 _Third year Hermione would be dancing a tango in excitement_ , she countered.

 _He is a Marauder though,_ the voice continued, and Hermione grimaced when she realized the voice sounded an awful lot like Lavender Brown. _Who knows what his real intentions are? Maybe he's just looking for a quick-_

 _Enough!_ Hermione said, locking down the treacherous voice. Remus was one of the most honorable men she knew. He would never toy with her just for a shag. They would have to spend every moon together, after all. Wouldn't that be difficult if they had a falling out?

She decided not to think about that now. Remus had given her no reason to distrust him, and was in fact being a perfect gentleman. So she cleared her mind of all distractions and poured her focus into her astronomy sketches. Right now, she was tracing the position of Venus, which was getting closer and closer to its eclipse by the moon. She smiled each time she glanced upwards, not being able to remember the last time she was relaxed enough to simply stare at the stars.

* * *

A/N: I'm so grateful for those who've given this fic a try, even if it's not your usual cup of tea. Huzzah for trying new things!

Pandora's line about different timelines won't be incorporated into this story's reality, but I had to add it in because I've been reading another Remione fic, _Divergence_ by abovetheserpentine, so, so much. Are you reading her story yet? Please tell me you are, because then we can fangirl over updates together.

And finally, for the guest reviewer from earlier this week, Hermione, who's already eighteen, did indeed take her N.E.W.T.s last time, not her O.W.L.s. She could graduate from Hogwarts right now if she wanted, but it' be like the difference in graduating with a C average compared to an A average. Our little perfectionist knows she could learn so, so much more, so she's filling in the gaps in her knowledge, especially in subjects she wasn't using on the horcrux hunt, like arithmancy. I would probably do the same, given the chance. Free additional magical education? Sign me up.

As always, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Unfortunately, her peace didn't last long.

For weeks she walked down the halls and fought to forget the way the portraits looked when their canvases were shredded and lifeless, or how the stones looked when crumbled and crusted with blood. She could chug a vial of Dreamless Sleep and forget everything for a while, but the potion was no help in the daylight. When she heard the innocent, playful screams of the younger children racing down the halls, all she heard were the panicked sounds just before death. When a professor raised her voice to scold a student, she shuddered at the sound of intimidation before an _avada kedavra._

And _forget_ about going to a quidditch game.

Professor McGonagall must have seen the new girl who walked on eggshells most days, else Hermione would never have been invited to tea in her quarters. She sat in the Professor's private rooms, hidden behind a concealed door on the wall of her office. The small sitting area was sparsely furnished but had all the comforts of the Gryffindor common room. One small armchair and a matching loveseat, both well-loved and in a soft red fabric sat on either side of a coffee table stacked high with bookmarked tomes, many of which seemed to be about Time Theory. The whole room was full of books, actually; two walls had floor-to ceiling bookshelves with a ladder just like in muggle libraries, and Hermione had to crane her neck to see the top shelf.

"You're welcome to borrow some if the student library proves insufficient to your tastes," Minerva said, bringing a tea tray in and setting it down. "Have a biscuit, Hermione."

Hermione tried to smile, but it didn't quite make it to her eyes. Minerva watched the young woman nibble at the edges of the cream-filled biscuit, her nails bitten down to the beds. Her hair was at least _sourgified_ , but it looked like it hadn't been washed in days, and there were large, dark bags under her eyes. Minerva had met veterans of war, of course, but never ones this young.

"How are you adjusting to this time, dear?" she began.

"Everyone is really nice. The girls have really been welcoming and even let me have my name on a plaque on the door." Even though her words seemed pleased and happy, her tone was grey and lifeless.

Minerva noticed. "I'm glad. It's good to have friends around. However, I had meant that question more generally. You've experienced quite a shock. Have you found any difficulties to such a change which you didn't expect?"

Hermione was quiet for a minute. She was staring very hard at the pattern on the rug when she answered, so quietly Minerva needed to lean far forward. "I hate knowing everything. I look at everyone and could tell them when, where, and how they died, and how their children died for some of them. I feel so helpless. Why am _I_ the one who got thrown back from the dead end?"

"I imagine if you spoke with Professor Dumbledore-"

" _Never,_ " Hermione hissed, before getting up and starting to pace.

If Minerva was surprised by Hermione's reaction, she didn't show it. She took a sip of her still steaming tea and smoothed out her black robes. "I of course don't know what Professor Dumbledore was like from your time, but I can imagine. Regardless of his failings, though, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone with as many connections in the wizarding world as that man."

"So I trade my helplessness for bloodstained hands? In my time, that man is responsible for the deaths of nearly everyone I hold dear, including yourself." Of course, Hermione didn't really know how Minerva McGonagall died and became an inferi, but she knew Dumbledore's failed plans were to blame if she traced it back far enough.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing. She sat, tapping a fingernail on the porcelain teacup in time with Hermione's pacing until the later sat back down and took another biscuit.

"I'm not saying anything against this Professor Dumbledore," Hermione continued, "It's true that I don't know him. I just trust you more. Can't I just tell you what I know?"

"I can be your sounding board, of course. But even if Albus and I can match wit for wit, I'm the type of person who prefers to stay in my study and grade. I try and keep up to date with the outside world, but my focus is here with you students. I doubt I would be much help to you if you wish to begin making changes."

Hermione knew this already. Professor McGonagall had never been the person who cooked up schemes or planned for a brighter future. She taught. She did a wonderful job in her classroom and prepared generation after generation for the 'real world,' but Hogwarts was the center of the world for her. Still, Hermione allowed herself some feeling of disappointment that Minerva couldn't replace Dumbledore.

"I understand," she said, clenching her jaw, "but I still don't want to work very closely with him. He doesn't know my story, does he?"

"You mean your being from the future? No," Minerva said, taking a sip of tea to mask her smirk. "Remember, Albus is my dearest friend, and I have known this man longer than you've been alive. I know his faults _far_ better than you do. If he heard there was a witch roaming the castle with full knowledge of the wizarding world's future it would be too much of a temptation for him. No, he thinks the same as everyone- that your family perished in that awful muggle-killing. Though I hardly need warn you to speak as little as possible about the matter to him. It's likely he could know more than we have planned for."

Hermione nodded. "Could I ask you a favor, then? Would you mind passing on some information to him, but not letting him know it came from me?"

"I could certainly try. Was there anything in particular he can do from this time?"

Hermione wrung her hands together. "How much do you know about Horcruxes?"

In the span of an hour, Hermione filled in the older witch about all she knew regarding Tom Riddle's treasures. Minerva's face went deathly pale once or twice, showing the wrinkles that were barely there moments before, but she kept silent and waited until Hermione had finished before asking questions. Once she started, she asked more and more technical questions, and Minerva found herself intensely grateful that the young woman before her with such in-depth knowledge of dark magic had already proven herself trustworthy. Dead or alive, in this timeline or any other, her bonded time-turner would never have left her neck unless it was taken by someone with the purest intentions. She breathed easier knowing she wouldn't have to question Hermione's integrity.

When the clock struck midnight, Hermione jumped three feet in the air with a yell. Minerva berated herself as she watched the girl pick herself up off the floor sheepishly. Despite how easily she could launch into a discussion or set all the fifth years laughing, Hermione was still grieving and carrying a huge weight on her shoulders.

"Alright, my dear, I think we better turn in for the night. I've promised to make Albus aware of these horcruxes, but now you need to promise me something."

"Of course, Minerva," Hermione said, still finding the taste of her professor's given name foreign, but nonetheless proud that she'd been allowed to use it.

The grey-haired woman looked Hermione right in the eyes and leaned forward. "Make time to heal. I know this war is far from over, and you'll likely be forced to endure even more than you already have, but that is not the point. I won't allow a witch as bright and good as yourself to drown in a life of quiet misery. I spent enough years doing that myself, to be honest. I know you're a good girl with Godric's own heart, so do the brave thing and confront those fears and nightmares. Laugh, cry, scream if you must. But do not let them eat at you. You'll waste away."

Hermione let all that sink in. "I...I will try, Minerva. Thank you."

"I mean it. And fate has dropped you in a rather opportune spot, with that wildling group of fifth years you've adopted. Let them help. They'll be good for you."

Tip-toeing back into the Gryffindor common room and seeing the dimmed space covered in bouncey balls, Hermione had to agree. Fate had certainly been generous in that way.

* * *

Three hours later, Hermione wrenched herself out of bed, panting and remembering all the ways in which fate had _not_ been generous to her. Her skin was cold and clammy from her sweat and covered in goosebumps that even her jumper couldn't make disappear. She was just grateful she hadn't screamed and woken her roommates, though it would have been her just desserts for forgetting to refill her supply of Dreamless Sleep. Stuffing her feet in a pair of slippers, she padded down to the common room, hoping to warm herself by the fire and rub away all memories of freezing in Malfoy Manor.

"Hermione?" a rough voice said from the shadows of the common room. Hermione jumped at the sound, but was able to keep from screaming.

"Hi Remus," she said, then crossed her legs and sat by the fire with her back towards him. She'd imagined she'd have the large space to herself, for hours if she really needed it. Sharing hadn't crossed her mind, and she really wasn't interested in trying, even with Remus.

She felt more than saw Remus take a seat a few inches away from her as he brushed some bouncy balls aside. He smelled like parchment and the kind of breath you only have after staying up all night. Hermione grimaced, but then remembered her breath probably wouldn't smell any better. She thought about asking him to just to sit with her quietly if he wouldn't leave, but his mouth took off before she could speak.

"Are you up because of the moon? I mean, I know that's why I can't sleep since it's only a few days away. It always makes me restless, like I could run for days. One time I did, you know. I ran for nearly a full day. But I didn't think you'd have any issues with this until next month."

Hermione's eyes were closed, but she could imagine the look on his face, the one she'd come to name Remus' "I've said too much and I'm an idiot who can't shut up but please still love me" face. The corners of her lips quirked up in a ghost of a smile, and she found she was too tired to lie to him.

"No, no moon symptoms yet. Just another nightmare."

"Another?" he said, his voice cracking a little, "I mean- ah, I'm sorry. I guess I'd probably have nightmares too, if…" he trailed off, running his hands through his thick, golden brown hair a few times before he sat bolt upright. "Hold on. I know what to do. Don't go anywhere."

She laughed under her breath at the way he bounded up the stairs, his long legs taking them three at a time. Then, hoping the gangly boy's idea of help was a secret supply of Dreamless Sleep, Hermione leaned back and rested her head on the sofa to wait. It didn't take long. Mere moments later, he reappeared with a shimmering black robe in hand, one she would have recognized anywhere.

"It's an invisibility cloak," he explained, "please don't tell the girls about it, though. I just thought… well... I wanted to show you something."

If Hermione were being honest, all she wanted to do was sit by the fire, alone, and be miserable after her nightmare. But McGonagall's voice whispering _let them help_ flitted through her mind, and she found herself reluctantly accepting a hand up and ducking under the cloak with a boy who now smelled like peppermint.

She let Remus lead her out the portrait and through the halls, just following his lead. She tried not to remember the way Ron used to accidentally bowl her over or Harry took steps twice as long as hers when they traveled under the cloak, especially once they got older, but she couldn't stop comparing her memories with the way Remus was tripping over himself like a puppy who hadn't grown into his feet yet. She had her hands on Remus' shoulders, to make sure they stayed together and hidden of course, but her palms tingled a little bit every time he jerkily moved one way or the other. She could also feel his broad muscles underneath his thin jumper, but that was just a coincidence.

When they passed the entrance to Hufflepuff House, Hermione knew his plan. It seemed as though the house elves never slept, because the entrance to the kitchen was brimming with the smell of at least five types of of pastry.

"Hello? Is Flopsy around?" Remus called out as he took the cloak off. A handful of elves jumped at the sudden appearance, but most seemed like they were used to the show.

"Flopsy's here, Mistah Lupin," said a petite house elf wearing a bright green dishcloth, who took a bow. "Who's ya friend?"

"Hello Flopsy," Remus said, bowing in return, "this is Hermione. We were wondering-"

"Flopsy knows," the elf said, jerking her head backwards towards a counter where a fork and white ramekin sat on a little platter. "Mistah Lupin comes down for his treasies every month, he does. Flopsy was worried when he didn't come. Flopsy thought maybe Mistah Lupin didn't likes Flopsy's treatsies anymore."

"Oh no!" Remus said, and his stomach growled to prove it. "I love your lava cakes, Flopsy. I'm sorry to make you worried, but I was actually wondering if you might be able to make one for my friend here, too. She… she might be coming down for your treats every month, too."

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt to make the poor creature work extra hard on her behalf, and in the middle of the night no less, but the beaming smile on Flopsy's face made Hermione reconsider.

"Oh! Flopsy would love to! Give Flopsy a tick and she'll have it."

Remus pulled up two stools to the counter and they sat down, another fork appearing beside the first.

"Nothing in the world can be wrong if you're eating one of Flopsy's lava cakes," he explained, encouraging her to take a bite.

Hermione hesitated. This was Remus' cake, Remus' way of dealing with his moon symptoms, and she was intruding on it. She should have stayed in the common room, or better yet turned around when she saw it was occupied and dealt with the fallout from her nightmare in her own bed.

Remus fidgeted in his seat. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare? Sometimes girls say talking helps."

Hermione sighed, resting her heavy head on her cupped hands. "I'd really like it to just go away, honestly."

He nodded in sympathy, pushing the ramekin closer to her. He still hadn't taken a bite yet, which Hermione assumed was an act of chivalry on his part. She was touched, knowing how much he loved chocolate, and decided to take a small bite so he could dig in, too. Her eyes closed as the warm, gooey chocolate filled her mouth, but a little bit got stuck on her cheek. He pointed it out to her embarrassment, making her wipe it off on her sleeve quickly. She was _not_ going to let Remus Lupin think she was some kind of slob like…

She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to think about Ron or Harry again. Quietly, she heard Remus sigh beside her.

"Lily tells me that a brain can be like a traffic jam. If you don't try to work through the problem, all the cars just keep getting backed up until it's a real mess."

"Are you muggleborn?" Hermione asked, keeping her gaze focused on the cake.

"No, but my Mum's a muggle. Plus, it was Lily who made the analogy, and I figured you'd understand it more than I would since you're muggleborn, too."

Hermione took in a slow, deep breath, then let it out though her nose. "I get what you're saying. Logically, it makes perfect sense, and I'm sure there are many mind-healers out there who would agree with you, or Lily as it was. But some things I don't know how to talk about."

"Is this about your arm?" he asked, making her jerk violently backwards.

"How did you know about that?" she whispered urgently, looking around to see if any of the house elves heard him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but I was under the cloak in the library when you showed Snape. I was researching for a prank in the restricted section, and I saw you tell him off and show him. That looked like a pretty dark scar, Hermione."

"It is," she gulped, fighting back the anxiety that began to rise and make her feel like sprinting off, cloak or no cloak. _Remus is not the enemy_ , she said to herself, trying to calm her quickening heartbeat.

"How could so many bad things happen to one person? Your parents, your brother, your arm?" The questions started to pour out of him now, "It wasn't just one attack, was it? Are you being targeted for something? You're so good at defense against the dark arts, but are you safe? Are you-"

"Shut _up_ , will you?" she said, putting her hand over his mouth, "do you think that if any of those things were true, that I would want them being broadcast in public?"

Remus flushed a deep red and looked down. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure why, but I don't want anything bad to happen to you," he whispered.

"I can take care of myself," she said, "I always have."

He nodded, then picked up the fork she'd dropped in her panic and offered it to her like an olive branch. "Is there anything I can do, though?"

"Just let me have my secrets."

He seemed to accept this, and they sat there eating in silence for a few minutes. Flopsy brought over the second lava cake and they started in on that one, too. They'd almost polished both off when Hermione had a question.

"You said 'nothing in the world can be wrong if you're eating one of Flopsy's lava cakes' earlier. Is that true? When I have all the moony side effects you talked about, and have to deal with transformations and everything, is a cake going to be enough?"

Remus snorted as he took a large, gooey bite and shook his head. "Not even close. But I'm not good at making people feel better, and that sounded like the kind of thing I'd want to hear if I was feeling rotten. 'Chocolate can save the world?' Well, no, but I'll pretend it's true for a while."

Hermione smiled her first, proper smile of the night. "I'll remember that, then. But for the record? I think you're pretty good at making people feel better."

He blushed a little and to cover it up, he flicked the last forkful of cake at her, spraying it all over her face and getting it in her hair. She screeched in surprise, frightening all the house elves nearby before she transfigured herself a handful of chocolate chips and repaid the gesture.

Ten minutes later, a grumpy old house elf escorted a blueberry pie-stained Hermione and peach cobbler-covered Remus from the kitchen. Flopsy stood in the doorway to wave an enthusiastic goodbye, a freshly made cup of pudding still upturned on her head. Hermione felt only slightly guilty about the mess, though. After all, Remus' sticky hand was still holding hers under the invisibility cloak.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all who've favorited, followed, and reviewed over the last week. Your participation keeps me going. :)

Sorry for only one upload this week, but I did try to make it extra long. Maybe my anxiety will give me enough of a break to write two updates next week? I like updating twice.

As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Days later, on the eve of her first moon, Hermione found her hand in Remus' once more.

The common room was subdued and almost church-like quiet with most of the kids already in their dorms. The only stragglers were the fifth year girls who needed some place to revise after the library closed. But even in the quiet, they could still hear the ticking of the clock, the scratching of quills, and a sigh every so often from either Marlene or Dorcas. Neither girl had even started their potions essays yet, and the deadline was mere hours away.

Remus was sitting on the ground with his back against Hermione's couch, his head resting against her borrowed bellbottom jeans while his rough thumb rubbed back and forth over her knuckles. It was the only thing that managed to calm her down tonight. The moon hadn't brought the full brunt of her lycanthropy (or whatever-thropy), but Hermione was feeling uncomfortable all over, like someone had let loose a colony of ants over her skin and they were burrowing everywhere. She'd twice tried to scrub the feeling out in the shower, but it didn't help. Remus wasn't really sure what the feeling was like; he explained how he'd been a toddler when infected, so he didn't really remember the day before his first moon. Regardless, the low light and the rhythmic side to side motion of Remus' thumb helped her concentrate on something other than the creepy-crawly feeling, and she'd been able to doze off for the last half hour thanks to him. This was an especially big improvement compared to the rest of the day, which saw high levels of crankiness from both Remus and Hermione, and ended with Hermione banishing the other three Marauders from the common room hours ago.

If the other girls had thought it was strange that Remus was allowed to stay, they hadn't said anything.

Lily, Hermione knew, was waiting for them to make it official. She'd poked and prodded the bushy haired witch over the last week to make a full confession of her feelings, but Hermione wasn't sure there were any feelings to confess. Yes, he gave her the same type of butterfly feelings she remembered having for Viktor Krum in fifth year. Yes, he could make her laugh hard enough to spew her butterbeer while also helping her keep the nightmares at bay. And yes, he sometimes looked at her in a way that made her want to yank him into a broom closet and do all sorts of sinful things.

But even as she let him trace patterns on the back of her hand, she didn't feel like she _knew_ him just yet, not Remus from this time and in this body. Late last night, musing on why she still felt disconnected, she reasoned that all her other relationships and close friendships had budded from adventure or certain death. With that in mind, she was a little more excited for the moon tomorrow, praying in a perverse way that the transformation might bring them closer together. All she had to do was sleep as much as possible tonight to prepare herself.

Just as she felt herself start to drift off, the Fat Lady's portrait opened and someone hollered out a _lumos maxima_. Hermione shielded her face against the painful brightness just as something wet hit her elbow and dribbled down.

"Hey! I'm still in here!" Remus yelled, but the sounds of wet slaps had already filled the room, and if that noise hadn't drowned his protests, the shrieks of her roommates would have.

Hermione squinted her eyes open to find the common room in colorful chaos with the three ringleaders in the center, conducting. The five girls were running all over the room, ducking for cover from the hundreds, if not thousands of tiny bouncy balls. They were the same ones she'd found littering the lounge only days before, and they were now ricocheting off every surface like the inside of a popcorn machine. They were springing up from the cracks of the armchairs and between notebooks, shooting from underneath windows and raining down from the tops of the bookshelves and the chandelier, constantly in motion. They only seemed to stop when they came in contact with human skin, and then they made an explosion of color.

Marlene was the most decorated. She hadn't been able to decide where to hide, so she launched herself at the boys, leaving herself exposed on all sides as she wailed on Sirius. But while she was getting hit from the front, back, and flanks, the boys seemed impervious to the stains, the balls bouncing off them without the slightest pop.

"Turn! It! Off! You! Git!" Marlene was saying, punctuating each word with a punch. Sirius, who was quick enough to avoid her fists, was laughing in her face.

"Immobulus!" Hermione shouted, pointing her wand at the ceiling. Immediately, every single ball dropped like lead to the floor. The downside to this, of course, was that most of the girls were already ducking for cover on the floor and were hit with dozens of color explosions at once.

The room was then eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the dripping of the paint-like liquid from the skin of the girls and, Hermione was surprised to see, Remus.

"I thought," Lily said, her voice deadly soft as she readjusted her sleeves, "that we banned you from the common room a few hours ago."

"You can't ban us indefinitely," James pointed out with a wide smile, "We gave you hours to study."

"That's right, and you can't get us in trouble for trying to tidy up the common room. We knew we left our balls in here and we wanted to leave our shared spaces cleaner than we found them," Peter said, quoting the student handbook at her.

"Just give them detention and be done with it," Hermione growled, getting up off the couch. She wasn't interested in watching the showdown that was only just beginning. Her skin had already started crawling. "I dibs first shower to scrub this bloody stuff off."

Remus reached for her hand to stall her but she shrugged him off. He looked so torn, his head snapping back and forth between Hermione's retreating form, his three grinning, unrepentant friends, and his own mottled skin. When Hermione and the other girls grumbled up the stairs towards the lavatory, she could hear the two prefects start to lay into the Marauders.

It turned out, though, that the colorful splotches on her skin _wouldn't_ wash off, either with soap, water, or any scouring spell she knew of. All the girls climbed into their beds with skin that was rubbed, red, and raw.

"This weekend," Alice whispered from behind her curtains in the dark, "we'll start planning."

There were sleepy murmurs of agreement from the other girls. Marlene let out a particularly colorful string of swears, but then it went quiet again. Hermione rolled over, rubbing her right thumb over her own knuckles, trying to ignore the creepy sensation up and down her skin. There was only seventeen hours and eight minutes until her transformation.

* * *

"I'll be here as soon as the sun comes up in the morning, dears," Madam Pomfrey was saying at the base of the Whomping Willow, the first stars just winking out over the dark blue sky. Her face was drawn tight with worry, and her usually serene nature was cracking. "I wish there was more I could do, Hermione. I'm sorry again."

Hermione shrugged from inside the tunnel. She knew the old matron meant well, but she was too tired to acknowledge it. She turned around and shuffled her way into the main room of the Shrieking Shack, already exhausted.

Remus had changed into an old bathrobe, shredded in some places and bloodstained on the rest. By contrast, a clean, fluffy white one had been left for her on a three legged stool.

"I'll turn around while you change," Remus said, his voice gruff and monotone. As soon as the sun started setting that afternoon, Remus' mood set with it. Hermione had been unable to engage him in any topic during dinner, and when she had whispered her anxieties to him on the way over, he hadn't been able to look her in the eye, merely giving her hand a halfhearted squeezed before letting go.

When Hermione was piling up her clean clothes in a corner, she made sure to stick her underthings inside a pant leg, tucked away. She'd heard the Marauders during dinner, after all.

"Remus, old pal, we have something to show you before you go and visit your aunt," James had started, waggling his eyes.

"Yeah," Sirius said, "you're going to be _over the moon_ when you see what we've cooked up."

Remus groaned, rubbing his forehead. "It'll have to wait. I'm too tired tonight."

"Aw c'mon," Peter had whined, "we have to serve our detention from six to nine, and you'll be gone by then! We've been waiting YEARS to show you!"

That last bit had been what made Hermione snap out of her own dark thoughts and pay attention. Right. The Remus from her time had said that fifth year was when a shaggy dog, a stag, and a rat animagi came onto the scene. Until this meal, Hermione had taken for granted that her secret would be out by the next morning, and that she would need to trust them to keep hers as well as they kept Remus'.

She'd listened intently as the boys bickered back and forth, watching Remus sink lower and lower into his guilt that he couldn't have whatever fun his friends were dying to show him. It wasn't long before Remus pulled Hermione out of the Great Hall, making up some flimsy excuse to the remaining girls about going to the nurse for a plaster.

Still, Hermione thought, slipping her arms through the white bathrobe, she wouldn't put it past the Marauders to think it a rolicking good idea to come visit Moony in the middle of the night after they'd finished with their detention. She just hoped they weren't too surprised to find someone else was keeping Remus company this month.

There was barely enough light coming from the cracks in the walls to see where Remus was sitting on the pallet bed. She tried to sit next to him without disturbing the mattress, but he noticed anyways and turned back towards her, though he was still refusing to make eye contact.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said quietly, his voice drifting around like the flecks of dust filling the air, "I've been lying to you this whole time."

"About what?"

"I wasn't trying to lie, exactly. I was just so overwhelmed to meet another werewolf, one who's not crazy or trying to kill me. I just didn't want you to worry for a whole month, since, well you're about to find out anyway."

Hermione measured her words, trying not to think about the man she'd known who wore shabby tweed suits and parted his hair in the middle. "You seem to be an honest person, Remus, from what I've seen. I'm sure you had a good reason for keeping things from me."

He nodded. "But still, I should be honest now. So I have to tell you that it's gonna suck. The transformation is minutes away, so you'll see what that's like, but the rest of your life, too. It's all going to suck."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I'm sure there will be good parts, though, just like in any life."

Remus thought for a moment. "I suppose if you get lucky enough to find people like James, Sirius, and Peter, or maybe other decent people who know what it's like, like you. Maybe then."

"I've certainly hit step two, then," she said, smiling at him.

Instead of smiling back, though, his face twisted in a grimace, and a deep cough bubbled up from his throat. "It's... starting."

Hermione felt something too, but it wasn't pain. It was like each of her cells flicked on at once. Her entire body was filled with endorphins, enough for her to run three marathons. She saw Remus on his hands and knees, panting, but she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, drugged with excitement. She actually did sprint back and forth on the splintered wooden floor a few times, testing her strength.

The end of that seductive pleasure came too soon, though, when she heard the sounds of each individual vertebra snapping in half. She screamed as her spine lengthened and curved, every unintentional movement sending waves of agony through her. Her wrists began to twist at unnatural angles, and claws started to poke through her knuckles like kitchen knives. She screamed over and over now, the pain so great she wondered why she hadn't died yet. It was only on the very edge of her consciousness that she heard the other creature in the room begin to howl. The room seemed to shrink beneath her as she saw inky black fur sprouting all over her skin. By now, she too was howling in both terror and agony. It was many minutes later, when the pain ebbed, that she felt her eyes blink open.

Flashes of anger and fear flew across her mind, and Hermione searched for the source, wading through her new senses like one upside down and underwater. How were there so many new smells? Where were they coming from? And then the creature now in control of her body caught sight of a different, frothing creature in the corner of the room. Hermione barely had time to recognize that the were-thing was tensing before it sprang across the room at Remus.

* * *

Hermione woke the next morning to lots of screaming.

"Mate, it almost killed you!' James' voice hollered, his distinctive hair shadowed on the privacy screen to her left. Remus must have been in the bed next to her.

"We showed up right after our detention and planned on showing you then," Sirius grunted, "but we couldn't get in for fear of one of you getting out. Next time, you'll remember to listen to your friends when they say they have something important to show you, will ya? Could've saved you a hell of a lot of blood."

"There is nothing you lot could have done but got yourselves killed," Remus muttered.

"Believe us, that thing was a monster," Peter said, which Remus scoffed at. "No, not like you at all. I mean like a vicious, bloodthirsty _monster_. Tell me Dumbledore is going to fix this so nothing can get into your shack again, right?"

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. They didn't know the were-thing was her yet, thank Merlin. She wouldn't be able to face them if they knew it had been her who nearly killed Remus. She scanned her body, taking note of every injury she could sense as she continued to listen.

"We should've put that thing down, or called Dumbledore in to kill it, or _something_ , but we didn't know how to get in or not hurt you, or-"

"Why would you _kill_ it?" Remus asked, his shadow violently sitting up in bed. All three standing shadows leaned over to make him lie back down. "I'm not a child. This isn't even the worst I've ever looked after a moon. But please, _never_ mention killing another werewolf in my presence. I don't care what it was doing to me. There was another human being in that body who had no more control over their wolf than I have over mine."

"Mate? That was no wolf," Sirius said.

Peter agreed. "Yeah, the thing had a long tail and tall, pointy ears and everything."

"Imagine McGonagall's cat form times ten larger and more murderous than when Slytherin wins the quidditch cup." James explained.

"Damn," Remus said softly, "that's what it is."

"What?" Peter asked, his shadow going over to the medicine tray on the side.

"No, not that. There's been this weird, horrible smell that I couldn't put my finger on. But that's it. It's cat."

Hermione froze beneath the thin sheet, trying to get a whiff of her own skin.

"Like, you smell a cat here? I haven't seen Mrs. Norris around, but-"

"No!" Remus covered, "It's, uh, not here or nearby or anything. It must be, like, a hair of that werecat thing that stuck on me or something. I don't know."

"If you say so. Madam Pomfrey said you'd have to stay a full day and overnight to make sure your wounds heal alright. They cut down to the bone, I guess. But when we spring you out, you can have a proper hose-down so you can get that smell out of your nose."

"Thank you."

"And we'll keep researching how that monster got in your shack. Don't worry, we won't let you get in a bind like that again. No one messes with our Moony."

"...Moony?"

"Guys!" Peter said, his voice cracking, "We never showed him! From last night!"

"Oh right, your big secret," Remus said. Hermione could hear him answering slower and slower, like he was fighting off the same sleep she was.

"We alone in here? No Madam Pomfrey?"

Remus paused, then his shadow nodded.

"Great!" James shouted. "Mister Padfoot, would you care do to the honors?"

"Why of course, Mister Prongs," Sirius said, and then his tall, lanky shadow morphed into the familiar form of Snuffles. From what she could tell, his fur coat seemed to stick up a little less at this age.

"Holy shit," Remus said, scrambling back in his bed, sleep forgotten. "Sirius, what the bloody hell did you do?"

Padfoot jumped in the air, spinning in a little circle to catch his tail, then transformed back. "We've been working on it since we learned animals couldn't hurt you during a full moon. When was that, Mister Wormtail?"

Peter jumped at his chance, literally transforming in mid-air and landing on Remus' bed. The little rat form scurried up and down the bed twice before transforming back. "We started exactly seventeen months ago, Mister Padfoot."

"My turn, my turn!" James yelled, unable to contain himself anymore. Hermione's eyes grew wide as the stag she'd never seen grew large behind the privacy screen, the shadow seeming to get closer and closer until-

CRASH

Hermione slammed her eyes closed and tried not to look like she'd been listening to their whole conversation as the boys circled her bed.

"Is that Hermione?"

"Shh Pads, she's sleeping. Can't you see? She looks awful."

"Almost like…" Peter trailed off, and Hermione could only imagine the wide-eyed look that must have crossed his face.

"She ain't sleeping you nimrod," Sirius snapped, his voice low and angry, "you and your big antlers could have woken the dead just now. Oi! Quit faking, Granger."

Hermione felt her stomach drop as she cracked one eye open. There, surrounded by mid-morning light were three murderous Marauders and a sheepish looking werewolf.

She gulped.

* * *

A/N: Cliffhanger! Sorry not sorry. :)

I'd hoped to have this chapter out yesterday in honor of the birthday of everyone's favorite werewolf, but today is quite acceptable in my book. *party blower* *streamers*

Honeydukes chocolate to all you lovely people. Thank you so much for reading, and let me know what you thought.


	8. Chapter 8

It didn't take the Marauders long to take in the bruises and cuts on Hermione's pale skin and put the pieces together.

"You fucking bitch!" "That was you in the shack?" "You monster!" they all shouted at once.

Remus tried to settle the boys, but his voice sounded far away and defeated. "Guys, she really didn't. Guys."

Hermione shrank deeper into the bed as if she could melt away from their accusations and the sunlight streaming through the large windows. Normally, she'd sit right up and fight them point by point, but she was having trouble focusing on anything. Exhaustion was working its way through her bloodstream like sludge, clogging up everything but the thought of how much it hurt and how tired she was. She watched the boys with eyes half-open as they seemed to circle her bed.

"Remus, don't try and defend her. Someone must have it out for you. Did Greyback send you?" James asked, pointing his finger inches away from Hermione's swollen cheek.

"I saved your life on the quidditch pitch!" Sirius yelled from her other side, "I would have bloody finished you off if I'd known-"

"You MONSTER!" Peter repeated even louder, looking back and forth between his friends to make sure someone heard him and agreed. When Sirius nodded at him, Peter turned on Hermione with cold, narrowed eyes. "You'll wish you were dead before we're done with you, Granger. We'll have you screaming-"

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" Madam Pomfrey said, rushing onto the scene, her apron out of place and hair all disheveled. "Boys? Why on earth are you still here?"

"We only came to bring some chocolate to Remus here," Sirius said, his smooth-talker voice firmly in place, pushing down the visible uneasiness from Peter's last statement. "And then the screen fell down and-"

"Oh, the screen fell down all by itself, did it?"

"No of course not. We accidentally went and-"

"It's always an accident with you boys. This is a serious breech of patient confidentiality, Mister Black. Miss Granger had as much right to privacy and rest as anyone and now you've thrown that out the window."

" _Her_ right?" James cried, "Look at Remus!" He pointed to a deep bite wound near Remus' collarbone that was already showing signs of infection. Remus pulled the sheets up to his chin to cover it.

Madam Pomfrey sucked in a slow, deep breath before saying in a level tone, "Mister Potter. You, of all people, should know that who a person is because of the moon is unrelated to the person they are the rest of the month."

James hung his head. Sirius, who'd opened his mouth to respond, had closed it, looking confused. Peter was still steaming in anger, though, and he looked like he might have slapped Madam Pomfrey clean across the face if the matron hadn't spoke first.

"You three are hereby banned from my hospital wing unless you yourselves have a medical emergency. I will not have my patients' healing compromised on your account."

There was immediate groaning and protesting, but a threat of even more detention had them shuffling out behind Madam Pomfrey's shooing, throwing sympathetic and suspicious looks to the two patients in turn. When they were finally gone, the large hospital wing was filled with a ringing silence. Hermione just knew Remus was hating her in silence from his bed, so she sucked up her Gryffindor courage and eased onto her side to look at him.

He really did look awful. His skin, like hers, had lost the rainbow of colors from the boy's prank the night before, trading them in for a motley spread of bruises. One splotch on his face was downright green. Hermione felt queasy, remembering being chased, taking a sharp turn, and Remus running into the wall at full speed behind her.

"Is it always this bad?" Hermione finally ventured in a whisper, hoping the question would make the young werewolf look at her instead of staring ahead at the wall.

He did look, but Hermione immediately wished he hadn't. All the wonder and awe she'd seen in his eyes at their first meeting had been scrubbed out. Now he was looking at her the way people looked at a doxy infestation, with equal parts disgust and a hated responsibility to clean it up.

"No." he said bluntly, "That was probably the worst moon I've ever had."

Hermione's insides churned with guilt, and she searched for the words that would grant his forgiveness, but before she could Remus started gagging and reached for the sick bowl. Madam Pomfrey rushed over from the nurse's station and held the hair out of his face as he emptied his stomach.

"Could you put me on the other side of the room?" He asked the nurse, guilt written all over his face while he wiped his mouth. "It's... it's that awful smell. Now that I know what it is... I'm so sorry Hermione, but-" he stopped mid-sentence to curl over the bowl again.

"Oh you poor thing," the matron said, rubbing his back.

"He says it's me," Hermione said, watching him helplessly, "that I'm not a werewolf and I smell."

"We can deal with that a little later, Hermione. Right now, I've got to make sure Remus can keep some food down. He's never acted like this after a moon before. Maybe some distance would be good." She gave Hermione a sad half smile before pulling out her wand and sending Remus' bed to the other side of the wing, then went to his side to tend to him.

Hermione watched as Madam Pomfrey put the privacy screen back up around Remus, hiding them both from view. She vacantly watched at the screen for ages, but eventually rolled back over and stared up at the ceiling. Her chest felt so tight like someone had sucker punched her, but she felt too numb to see whether it was injury- or sorrow-based.

She promised herself she wouldn't cry. She repeated that over and over to herself until it became a heartbeat that she used to drown out the sound of the werewolf's fluttering heartbeat from across the room.

* * *

A week later, Hermione was grateful she didn't share any classes with the fifth years besides Herbology. The three Marauders wouldn't speak to her, and Remus seemed to disappear whenever she showed up. This made for very awkward meal times with her roommates, who in their concern were driving her crazy with questions. None of them could understand who'd thrown a _nox_ overnight on what had looked like a promising relationship. Not about to explain the finer points of werewolf anatomy, Hermione could only shrug, say something about how boys were a mystery, and hope they stopped pestering her soon.

All of the drama made Hermione especially grateful to to slip into the back row of her NEWT-level classes and drown in work. It wasn't overly challenging, but spending a whole year away from school meant she needed plenty of time in the library. Even better, Hermione found that even though she took two days off post-moon, she hardly had to tangle with the other students at all.

The one exception was potions. Slughorn was a big fan of partnered work, and today he'd set her up with none other than Damocles Belby to help her catch up.

"So I know the Prof has like, a stick up his butt," Damocles was saying, "but he doesn't know you can do this potion in half the time with a shortcut."

Damocles had taken charge in this assignment since she sat down. While Hermione had bristled at first and tried to show him the correct way to do it according to their books, he easily waved her off and continued his tricks and shortcuts, so for the past half hour she'd sat and watched with her head propped up the table. That is, until the potion was in its boiling phase and Damocles got bored.

"Hey man," he whispered to a fellow Slytherin behind him, "you got any more of that aconite sorted? That stuff was far out. "

"Wait, what are you making with aconite?" Hermione asked, alert once more.

"Don't get all tattle-pants on me now, you seemed like a cool bird," he said, fishing around in his pockets for a half dozen galleons which he stacked on the desk behind him. "I ain't doin' nothin' that's illegal. Well, anything that's illegal yet."

"Oh, I wouldn't ever tell," Hermione said, praying she'd be able to lie for once in her life, "I've actually been looking for… stuff." The last word came out in a secretive whisper as she looked around the room for eavesdroppers. She would never forgive herself if someone overheard and actually thought she was a drug user.

Damocles looked her in the eye, and for the first time she noticed how bloodshot they were. He squinted at her, then gave a lopsided smile. "Great! I have all kinds of 'stuff.'"

He waited until Slughorn had given the room another loop before opening his robe slightly to reveal a special vest full of potions, powders, and plants. "Have I got stuff for you, witch."

Hermione blanched a little. "Actually, it was that aconite stuff that sounded fascinating. What do you do with it?"

"Nah, you don't want to start on anything that hard, I can tell. You're green at this. You should try Sleeper's Knot. It's like dreamless sleep, but you take it when you're awake and have these nice little daydreams. Work your way up from that to the real trippy stuff."

"Yes, that sounds very nice. But I'm really interested in the aconite. Isn't it poisonous?"

"You don't want it, girl, I'm telling you. It tastes terrible."

"I'll take my chances."

Damocles crossed his arms. "Can't you, like, let a man make his pitch? You don't gotta cramp my style like that. I'm never going to make it in Jamaica if I can't sell a knut-bag of Sleeper's Knot."

"Er... right."

The two stared at each other, blinking.

"Jamaica does have lovely jungle trees, though," Hermione said, wincing internally at how ignorant she sounded.

Damocles looked at her like he suspected she was part jungle tree herself.

"Look," Hermione burst out, pressing both palms into the table as she leaned forward over the potion, now bubbling, "I have reason to believe you've created something amazing with that aconite, and I want to know your recipe. Please, I won't sell it or share it or do anything other than use it for some… personal reasons. Please."

Damocles slumped his shoulders dramatically and slid halfway down his chair. "Bollocks. I suck at this. Fine. You write my essay for next class, and t's a deal."

"I'll write you an essay and you can copy it in your own handwriting?" Hermione countered.

"Sure, just make it good," he muttered, but he was already writing something down on a spare scrap of parchment. A few moments later he blew on the ink and handed it over. "If it's bogus though, I'll know. Also, if I ever decide to sell this recipe to a drug lord, you can't sell it to him first."

"Oh I promise," Hermione said, but her attention was already on the list of ingredients and directions. This was it!

Slughorn eventually dismissed the class and they flooded out into the hall. Hermione practically skipped out the door, or at least as much as she could without looking ridiculous. Riding on the high of the Wolfsbane recipe in her pocket, she momentarily forgot the reason she'd been so excited to have NEWT classes in the first place.

The Marauders, waiting in the hall with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years for their own potions class, had clearly not forgotten. Now slumping slightly, she walked by a synchronized two fingered salute from three of the four boys, and Remus was already rushing past her to get into the classroom.

Hermione felt her eyes pricking around the edges when she felt an arm tug her into an alcove behind a suit of armor.

"What on earth was that?" Alice was asking, her short pixie hair nearly crackling in anger.

"It's nothing. I guess they're mad at me because of Remus or something."

"Yeah, well they need to cut it out! They can _not_ treat you like that, Hermione. I know you haven't said much about your break-up, or whatever happened between you two, but unless you were a real bitch about it, they have no reason to be upset."

"No, it wasn't like that at all. I wish I could talk to Remus about it," Hermione confessed.

Alice's face grew hard and decided. "Well then we'll have to make him talk to you. I'm calling a roomie meeting. Be back in the dorm by 9 tonight, and we'll make plans."

"Alice, I really don't know if-"

"Lily has been trying to get you to prank with us since you've got here. If you think you can avoid it for much longer, you're deluding yourself." She smiled one of her small, kind smiles. "You're a good person, Hermione. You don't deserve this."

Hermione nodded, and Alice squeezed her hand before ducking back out and rejoining the rest of her class. Hermione waited behind the suit of armor until the hallway was quiet once more, then left for the library. She got the feeling that roomie meetings didn't end early enough for her to write two potions essays.

* * *

"This roomie meeting of the Gryffindor girls is now in session," Marlene said, banging a high heel on the floor like a gavel.

All six of the girls were sprawled out on the floor in the center of their room, bags of Honeyduke's best chocolates spread out between the soft, down pillows and blankets they'd pulled off their beds. She hadn't known a dorm room could feel this cozy. To Hermione, it was like the best parts of the Burrow had been mixed with the best parts of the common room, which is to say it was nothing like living with Parvati and Lavender.

"Ok, Hermione," Lily started, "we have some rules. Whatever prank we decide on can't be about quidditch because of Marlene, it can't use Alice's plants unless she volunteers them, and it can't be anything that will get me in trouble as a prefect."

"Unless Lily doesn't know about it," Marlene said with a wicked grin. Lily threw a pillow at her for that.

"Pandora has suggested that we don't spike pastries with sneezing powder again, as a frumious bandersnatch got into the leftovers last time and became quite ill," Dorcas mentioned, her head hanging upside down off the bed.

"Noted. Mary? Will you add that to the minutes?"

Mary rolled her eyes but set her quill to the parchment.

"Now then. We're here for a dual purpose. Firstly, to avenge ourselves for the attack of the indelible rainbow ink balls-"

"Which, by the way, we'd really like the cure for sometime, Hermione," Alice said, scratching the back of her still blue hand.

"And secondly," Lily said, slightly raising her voice, "we're here to see if we can get Remus to talk to Hermione again."

At this, the room erupted in chatter, like the mere mention of a boy required every girl to throw out her oh-so expert advice on dating. Hermione, still not yet used to being the center of relationship gossip, felt her face turn tomato red. She crossed her arms and glared at each girl in turn until they eventually relented.

"Alright, and we're back to the prank," Marlene said, trying to take the reins of the conversation, "Hermione, as a fellow muggleborn, you must be aware that muggle pranks are superior to all these nonsense wizard pranks."

"Wait, you're muggleborn?" Mary asked, looking up from her notes.

"Oh, yeah. I thought you knew about my parents and all that…" Hermione trailed off, hoping the topic of her parents' supposed death would end the line of questioning just like it had for everyone else.

But of course, that was too much to hope for in Mary. "I don't understand. If you were muggleborn, how did your parents find you such an amazing tutor? I mean, you basically got all your NEWTs."

Marlene and Lily looked at Hermione like they'd never considered the question before. "Well," Hermione started, "Professor McGonagall paid me a visit like I'm sure she did the both of you, but my parents decided before they knew I was a witch that they didn't want to send me to a boarding school. I was their only child-"

"But I thought you said James looks like your brother," Lily interrupted.

"Right," Hermione corrected herself after a beat, "I mean the only girl child. Somehow being a girl meant I needed to stay close to home. My brother was allowed to choose whatever he wanted, though, the bumrag."

Mary's eyes were still narrowed. "But how did your muggle parents find such a great magical tutor? Can I have his name?"

"Oi, Mary," Marlene butted in, "I know your fancypants tutor died and you had to come to Hogwarts this year, but don't think we're going to let you leave now that you've come."

"You haven't been at Hogwarts since first year?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows climbing. She supposed it shouldn't be a surprise, considering how much time Mary spent alone in the room. She probably wasn't used to so many other students if she'd been tutored from home.

"No," Mary answered, simply. She was still looking at Hermione the way Sherlock Holmes looked at a particularly difficult case, and Hermione's muscles twitched unconsciously in response, gearing up for a fight.

"Right. This has been fun and all," Marlene ventured, tapping the high heel on the floor again to break the tension, "but I want to get back to pranking. Chat on your own time ladies. I've got an early quidditch practice tomorrow and I'm not letting you keep me up up all hours of the night to ruin that."

Dorcas, Lily, and Alice looked disappointed that the two newest roommates weren't going to have it out tonight, but soon let it go. Lily went to the wooden chest at the foot of her bed and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. It was covered with different handwritings with different dates, all describing various muggle pranks. Hermione scanned the list, noting that she had read about many of them in her books from home.

"This is a list of every prank Marlene and I have attempted to vote in since the Marauders first sprayed us with mandrake juice in first year," Lily explained.

"But we always get voted down by the other two," Marlene added.

"What happened when it was just the four of you and there was a tie?"

"Mostly we dueled for it," Dorcas said, smiling like she knew a secret.

Lily grabbed her hand and made her focus on the list once more. "But now we have a new chance of victory! C'mon, Hermione, some of those sound fun, right?"

Hermione had already zeroed in on one she'd seen used lots of times in old chapter books from her childhood. "This one here is good. But I think we could make it a little more magical."

She explained her plan, complete with a diagram, a timetable, and a list of necessities, all of which she whipped up in the span of ten minutes. The other girls looked at her with wide eyes. Evidently, none of them had ever been quite so organized in their pranking before.

"Merlin," Marlene whispered, "are you some sort of prank goddess?"

Hermione snorted, thinking back to all the times she'd been on the receiving end of a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes product. "I've never really been the pranking type, but I am rather good at making plans, if that doesn't sound too boastful."

"No way! You're hired!" Marlene said, wrapping her up in a hug.

"Hold on," Mary said, "We haven't even voted yet."

Lily nodded. "Mary's right, we do need to make it official. All those in favor of Hermione's modified muggle prank?"

Five hands, including Hermione's rose in the air. Mary's mouth twisted in a grimace. "And I am overruled. Don't expect me to do any of the dirty work."

"Of course not, you neat freak, you," Dorcas said, flipping off the bed and giving Mary a pat on the head. Mary's icy mood seemed to melt a little at that, but she was still glaring at Hermione.

After the vote, the energy in the room nosedived, and soon Hermione was nestled under her sheets with a swallow of Dreamless Sleep working through her veins. While waiting for sleep to come, her mind buzzed with plans. It was still only a fifty fifty chance that after this, Remus would start talking to her again or be so angry that he pulled farther away.

But even if it meant she had to suffer a bit longer under the silent treatment, it would be worth it to see his underwear.

* * *

A/N: I'll just leave it at that. ;)

If you've got the time, I'd really appreciate a review. Those interactions with all of you reading this story (and there seem to be a lot!) are my only clue as to what you like, what you don't, and what's just not working. Love times infinity to those of you who've already commented; those little notes are worth their weight in galleons.

As always, thanks for reading. Happy belated St. Patrick's day!


	9. Chapter 9

It took more than a week to execute the plan properly. Originally, Marlene had wanted to do it all at once, but Hermione convinced her that a slow, piece by piece prank would be better revenge.

It became a pattern after a while. Whenever the boys were in class or out studying, the girls would run up to the their room in pairs. One stood guard, the other would _wingardium leviosa_ a pair of shorts or two, then both would giggle at the patterns and dash up the stairs to increase the pile of stolen underwear. Mary had the foresight to charm the pile to smell like flowers instead of the rancid yak butter they came in smelling like, which everyone was grateful for. All told, the whole process took about thirty seconds once they'd grown proficient.

Five days after they started, the girls decided they much preferred piece-by-piece pranking. The conversations between the boys at mealtimes, muttered under their breath while passing the peas or refilling their butterbeer, had the girls biting the sides of their cheeks to keep from laughing.

"Oi, did you steal my shorts? Are you sure?"

"You think the house-elves are on strike?"

"Mate, I _know_ I saw you wearing mine yesterday, admit it."

Either Peter would ask James, or James would ask Remus, or Remus would ask either of them, and the conversation would loop in endless circles between the three. For some reason, there was an unspoken understanding that Sirius hadn't noticed. Every breakfast, the boys had more and more outlandish theories about how all their underthings went missing.

On Friday, James marched up to Lily in the corridor and asked if she'd been nicking them as the start of a romantic overture. In return, Lily sent a terrific tripping jinx his way, sending him right into Mr. Filch's bucket of dirty bathroom water.

When a howler about irresponsibility and a package of new underwear dropped onto Sirius' plate the next day at breakfast, every table in the Great Hall was laughing. Hermione had to force herself to even chuckle, recognizing the voice of the horrid woman whose portrait had called her 'Mudblood' so often. She looked towards the Slytherin table and saw a mini version of Sirius with embarrassment burning across his younger face, making her feel even worse for laughing. He had trimmed, tidy hair and perfectly straight posture, but his tightly crossed arms ruined the careful press of his green-blazed robes. She tucked away a reminder to herself to check in with the younger Black brother soon.

Sirius' package was a more pressing matter, however. If even _Sirius Black_ had noticed his shorts were missing, the other parents might soon send along reinforcements, too. So it was early on that cold Sunday morning, the sky still starry and black, that they walked out to the Whomping Willow to put the plan into action.

Hermione found she hated working when she could see her breath puff out. She needed to constantly remove her hand from her warm pocket to enchant the underwear, and each time she did the new, feline part of her mind growled in warning. She fought the urge to slink away when no one was looking and curl up by a fireplace somewhere, which wasn't wholly unusual, but the strength of the desire surprised Hermione.

She'd been dealing with these new senses fairly well over the past two and a half weeks, she thought. They'd been coming on more gradually though, and the end of the month was sure to be a bugger. The worst of the symptoms so far was the constant noise from everyone's coughs, breaths, and malfunctioning digestive systems. Thankfully, she could minimize much of that by taking her meals at odd times and spending hours in the still, quiet library, which no one found strange. Hermione had seen Remus in the book stacks a handful of times, making her wonder if it had been _thanks_ to his condition that he was such a studious person.

She hadn't needed to venture outside since the last moon, however, and so her feline instincts were feeling a bit overwhelmed now that nature was pressing so close. She could hear each fluttering mouse heartbeat from the edge of the forest, smell the snow coming on the breeze, and feel… actually she couldn't feel much of anything. Her toes had gone numb almost as soon as she stepped outside.

 _Guess I'm not a snow leopard,_ Hermione said, smacking her hands on her thighs to try and regain some feeling.

"Think it looks good?" Dorcas asked, tilting her chin up at their handiwork once the pile finally disappeared.

"Hold on," Mary said, casting a charm Hermione had never seen on a blue pair of boxers covered in tiny chickens and the phrase "SIRIUS' COCK" on the butt. Even though she promised she wouldn't help in the pranking, Mary brought plenty of excitement that morning, waking everyone else up with pillows to the face. Hermione smiled seeing the more playful side of Mary come out. When the bluish shimmer on the underwear eventually faded, Mary nodded and said, "There. _Now_ we can go inside."

"Thank Merlin, because I was about to hex you all for taking so long," Alice muttered, pulling her fluffy hat tight over her ears and turning back to the castle.

Hermione's legs twitched with unspent energy, which that gave her an idea. "Last one to the castle has to tell the boys!"

She wasted no time taking off towards the gates, but her sprint was short-lived. She flailed her arms around to try and regain her balance, but she fell face-first. Mary sped past her, laughing, and Hermione growled. She got up and began running again, the wind streamed through her hair as she picked up speed. Her eyes grew wide as she passed Mary first, then Dorcas and Alice, and then even Lily. It was when she passed a shocked Marlene and her quidditch-toned legs that she crowed in glee. She got the feeling that the feline was enjoying the race too.

She tagged the stone archway of the castle, not even out of breath. She'd never won _any_ kind of physical contest before, even in primary school, but now she understood why people liked them.

* * *

After a few more hours of sleep, the girls stumbled down into the Great Hall, still groggy but excited. Hermione, however, felt the anxiety pooling in her stomach from two corridors away, the zoo-like cacophony already audible. When they opened the doors it rushed towards her in a stampede, and she couldn't stop her hands from clamping down over her ears.

"What's the matter?" Lily asked, her brows creasing.

"It's fine," Hermione said with eyes closed, forcing her hands back down to her sides as the noise crashed back over her. "It's just really noisy in here."

"What noise?"

Hermione opened her eyes and saw that the hall was barely half-full of students, which was not unusual for mid-Sunday morning. Of those who were there, she couldn't see a lot of mouths moving, and many looked hungover. She had to think fast.

"Sometimes the cold gives me a headache and makes my hearing super sensitive. I haven't been outside much recently."

"I've never heard of anything like that," Dorcas commented, patting the seat beside her and filling a plate with fresh fruit for Hermione. "You might want to check in with Madam Pomfrey, but you should try some dragonfruit first. It's known for its healing energy."

Hermione sat down, grateful _someone_ believed that lie. Marlene and Alice were looking at her with quirked eyebrows, and Mary seemed just about to say something. Before she could, though, a noise like a herd of elephants came thundering in through the doors.

"Good morning _ladies,_ " James said, sitting down in his usual spot at the table's edge, kicking up a foot like a prince on his throne.

"Well, ladies _and_ Hermione," Peter added, staring at her with a knowing smirk.

Without looking up, Remus, taking a seat as far away from Hermione as possible and cast an _inflatus_ on both Peter's hands, making them swell to twice their size.

James and Sirius laughed, but the girls could only stare, a mix of horror and confusion.

"What's wrong with Peter?" Marlene whispered across the table to Hermione, flecks of her muffin landing on Hermione's shirt, "He's always been the nice, quiet one."

Hermione couldn't answer, her face still burning and her ears ringing with the sound of the boy's laughter, which sounded more like a box of silverware clanging down a flight of stairs to her sensitive ears. Lily saw Hermione's discomfort, and when they made eye contact, she set her jaw.

"Dearest Alice," she said, turning down the end of the table so she wasn't shouting in Hermione's ear, "wouldn't it be a lovely day for a walk near the forbidden forest?"

Alice grinned. "Why, I think it would be. It's so nice and warm out."

"Oh, liar liar, _pants on fire,_ " Dorcas said, "It's freezing out."

"I expect you'd really need some _long underwear_ to take a walk outside today," Marlene added.

The boys stopped laughing. Even Remus was watching the girls now, his eyes fully alert.

"Lily, you're a _smarty pants,_ " Mary said, "would you go outside today?"

"Oh no, I'd never go under _there_ ," she answered, biting the inside of her cheek.

There was a beat of silence as the girls waited for one of the guys to respond. It had been Alice's idea to hint at the prank, but poor Dorcas hadn't quite grasped the idea.

"Wait, under where?" She asked, looking back and forth between the girls, thoroughly confused.

Laughter bubbled up from the girls, but James looked panicked. "What's going on? What are you doing?" he asked, but the only reply was louder, harder laughter. Hermione saw students from other houses starting to turn around to watch. It was usually the Marauders who were laughing at the girls, after all. Anything that had them this befuddled had to be good.

Hermione heard the dry cough and waddling gait of Mr. Filch before she saw him, but when he finally came trotting into the Great Hall she was still surprised.

"Headmaster, sir!" he wheezed, shaking a wad of colorful cloth in his fist, "Underwear in the trees! Underwear flinging through the sky! Underwear sticking to the castle walls!"

The room erupted in snickers, which only escalated to howls of laughter when a pair smacked against the Great Hall's window and Peter stupidly yelled, "Hey! Those are mine!"

The Marauders looked murderous when they turned on the girls.

" _What did you do_?" James seethed, his eyes cutting straight to Lily.

"Oh I don't know," Lily said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "but it sounds like a _whomping_ good time."

"Bloody hell." Remus covered his reddening face with his hands, but Peter pulled them away with his still-swollen ones. Soon, he'd tugged the werewolf past Mr. Filch and out of the Great Hall towards the gates.

"I'll get you all back," James promised, pointing at the still cackling girls before he took off after his friends. This left Sirius, not looking happy, but still sitting at the table with a half-finished bowl in front of him.

"You're not going to retrieve your missing things?" Marlene asked, elbowing him in the side.

"I've got nothing to hide," he answered, delicately cutting his breakfast sausage with a fork and knife. "Plus, I've just got a new package from my Mum and Dad. I don't need whatever you lot took."

"Oh Sirius?" Mary said, waiting til he looked up. "We took _all_ of your shorts."

It took a moment for that to sink in, but when it did, Sirius tripped over his own feet running out of the hall at full speed.

"I've been waiting all week for this," Marlene grinned, pulling a camera out from her bag. Hermione had to hide her laugh behind her sleeve as they ran down the hall with an outdated muggle Polaroid. It was so big! She hadn't seen a camera that old since she dug through her father's old dental school keepsakes in the attic back home.

Immediately, she pushed away the memory, feeling her heart speed up as the past closed in around her. _No time to think about that now, Hermione,_ she told herself, mentally holding the memories at bay, _you're having fun right now. There's not even a reason to freak out. Dad is a_ happy _memory._ But even with her pep talk, it was still several minutes of biting her lip and concentrating very hard on breathing in (2-3-4) and out (2-3-4) before she could mentally banish the past and rejoin the chaos.

And it was certainly chaos. They'd made it outside ahead of the professors, and there was underwear _everywhere_. The Whomping Willow had been dormant while the sun was still down, but it was certainly awake now. It was thrashing in every direction, its branches and vines snapping at anyone who got too close, even the boys who were casting accio after accio. This method seemed to be particularly frustrating to Peter, and Hermione smirked at the infuriated way he was jabbing his wand and cursing the tree. All he had to do was transform into the rat he was, and the whole problem could be solved. But since he couldn't, the willow continued to fling more and more of his shorts into nearby trees, the ground, or even, as Mr. Filch had noted, onto the castle walls itself.

"How're they sticking like that?" she whispered to Lily, whose eyes were gleaming with some secret knowledge.

"Oh that? Dorcas must have done it, but I'm not quite sure."

But when Hermione asked, Dorcas didn't seem to know, and neither did Marlene.

"Mary? Do you know how they're sticking?"

Mary flipped her hair out of her face and looked down at Hermione from her perch, sitting cross-legged on a rock.

An uncomfortable minute of feeling somehow searched later, Mary just whispered, "Watch."

The underwear, it turns out, wasn't actually touching the walls. Hermione could now see that they had been floating close above the surface, but now they were zipping along, rearranging themselves.

"Say," Hermione read when the shorts formed themselves into a word against the wall. Everyone who had been pointing and laughing at the tree now turned the opposite way, also reading.

"You're. Sorry." The next two words declared. Hermione whipped her head back towards Mary, who shrugged.

"They were being total arses to you. Only serves them right."

"Oh. Well, thank you," Hermione said, lamely. Mary didn't seem to care, just uncrossing her legs and landing lightly back on the ground.

They both walked over to where the boys were, still looking up at the wall. Remus noticed Hermione's arrival first, and he squared his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said. His eyes betrayed nothing, and his face was emotionally blank, like he'd said nothing more than 'pass the salt.' She also noticed, sadly, that he was holding his breath.

"Apology accepted," Hermione said softly, hoping those words wouldn't be a dismissal that sent him running from her. She shouldn't have felt so rejected when he backed away, but she did, and her heart twisted. "Wait a second. Remus!"

He didn't turn around. She watched his long legs carry him up the steep bank to the gates and his hands smack his head over and over. She lost count before he disappeared behind the stone walls, just like his shorts had disappeared when he'd apologized. That bit had surprised Hermione, but Lily grinned like she'd won the lotto when she saw twenty pairs of shorts disappear before the crowd's eyes.

James watched the exchange between Hermione and Remus too, and looked fairly worried. He'd gotten the idea of how it worked, though.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, his voice low so only Hermione could hear him. The others in the crowd, now chasing after a Black or Potter 'souvenir' probably wouldn't have paid attention anyways, but Mary was still close. James leaned in more just to be safe before he said, "I was just upset to see Remus so hurt. I don't really think you'd do something like that on purpose. I wasn't thinking."

"I can promise you, James," Hermione said, looking up into his face, framed by that familiar wild hair, "that I would never hurt Remus on purpose."

He looked surprised at her unsolicited revelation, but he nodded his acceptance. "He's a good mate."

Peter was kicking clods of dirt in the background, but James pulled him front and center. The short boy cleared his throat, and enunciated, "I am sorry for my actions, which have offended you. I will make amends if necessary."

Hermione had heard these sentences often whenever Ron had done something stupid he wasn't at all sorry for. She wondered if every pureblood was taught the same words of apology. If so, he'd missed something. "And you'll never do it again?"

Peter's eyes narrowed with absolute loathing, but still he looked over his shoulder to check with James, who answered for him.

"Of course Petey won't say stuff like that again. None of us will. Right, Pete?" James asked, slinging an arm around the smaller boy's neck in a playful headlock.

"Of course. Never again," Peter deadpanned. He returned James' clap on the back with his enormous, puffy hands and even jumped on him for a piggy-back ride, but Hermione saw the way his jaw was still clenched as they rough-housed. When James wasn't looking, Peter managed to flip her a two-fingered salute with his swollen fingers. If anyone else had seen it, they would have thought it playful. Hermione wasn't sure.

"Mister Black," a male professor Hermione didn't know was lecturing Sirius behind her, "are you incapable of a simple summoning charm?"

"It keeps flying away!" he shouted, waving his wand erratically at the chicken-covered boxers, fluttering in the breeze.

Mary, who'd been a few paces behind Hermione while the boys made their apologies, now came forward. She gave her wand a good swish and flick, and the boxers flew down into her outstretched hand.

"You had NO business going through my things!" Sirius said, his long, dark hair, catching on the wind behind him in a way that made Hermione imagine the mast of a ship. _Maybe a pirate ship_ , she thought wryly, watching the way he was trying to steal the pair of shorts out of Mary's hand while still being a gentleman. Mary held her own though, and shortly pulled her wand on his temple.

"It seems you need something from me, Black," she said, so quietly Hermione couldn't be sure she heard right. "Well I need something from you. Shall we trade?"

"I'll show you where you can shove-" he started, ducking away from her wand and lunging once again for the pair. She tucked them behind her back, making him swear in frustration. Something over her shoulder caught his attention which stalled him, though. All of a sudden, he straightened up, smoothed his hair back, and took a deep, calming breath. "I apologize most sincerely for my actions, which have offended you, and will make amends if necessary."

"I'm not the one you apologize to, nimrod. And that's not what I need from you either- hey!"

Mary whipped around to watch James and Peter running away with Sirius' embarrassing boxers. "That's cheating!" she nearly screeched as she dashed off after them.

"I know it was to you I was supposed to apologize, kitten," Sirius said quietly to Hermione, taking her hand and kissing her knuckle. "If you wanted my attention that badly, you just needed to come up and say hello."

"You've done nothing but send rude gestures my way for the past two weeks, Black, why should I have been polite? And do _not_ call me kitten. Or any nickname, really." Hermione pulled her hand away, still feeling an uncomfortable tingle on her knuckles.

"All water under the bridge, _kitten_ ," he emphasized, a slow smile spreading across his face when hers grew twitchy and cross. "Course we can't have you mess him up like that again, but I don't see why we can't get along the other twenty-nine days of the month."

Hermione nodded slowly, unsure how to take smooth, polite Sirius so close on the heels of angry, pirate ship Sirius. She glanced around for the other girls and spotted them already walking back to the castle with the rest of the crowd, ushered by the unknown professor and Mr. Filch. She looked back at Sirius, feeling like there was some proper way to end the conversation but not knowing what.

"I'm going to eat now," she settled, jerking her thumb towards the girls. It must have worked, because Sirius laughed and headed out towards his boys.

She was almost in the castle before she heard him call "Oh, Hermione? If you ever want to pull a real prank, you give the Marauders a call, all right?"

"That _dog!_ " she said, whirling around with her wand raised, fully prepared to hex him.

"Woah, calm down," Lily said, pulling her shoulder. "Don't listen to him."

"It was a great first prank, Hermione," Mary said, a little half smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "but next time we'll really show them what a full-blown _magical_ prank looks like."

"Are you kidding? This was brilliant!" Marlene said, snorting as she flipped through the still developing polaroids, "Don't worry, Hermione. They won't be laughing once we've got these puppies up all over the halls."

There were a few good ones of the boys chasing after their shorts, and some of the laughing crowd, too.

"Can I keep this one?" Hermione asked, pulling a half-developed photograph from the pile.

"Sure," Marlene shrugged, not even looking. She ran up to a group of sixth years ahead of them. "Hey Rosie! Check this out!"

Hermione let the rest of the girls morph in with the larger group of Gryffindors, but she hung back, slipping into an alcove. She leaned against the wall and fingered the white edge of the unmoving, wholly muggle picture. Remus's face was coming into focus now, and Hermione bit her lip as it became clear. There was a mess of wild, curly hair in the foreground, the same she saw in the mirror every morning, and Remus was staring right at it with such longing it took her breath away.

 _No,_ she chastised herself, putting the picture down. She wasn't going to pine after someone who hated her, especially when that person was Remus Lupin of all people. She'd been ridiculous to even think about it.

She shook her head to clear it, then tucked the picture deep into her pocket and marched herself to the library. Drowning herself in work always helped her forget her problems. In her purposeful stride, however, she somehow missed the fluttering heartbeat of a wolf hidden in the alcove next to her.

* * *

A/N: Happy Easter! I took last week off for Holy Week, but I'm right back at it now. I surprised even myself with how long this chapter was.

Anyone spot the Office reference? I love the prank wars between Jim and Dwight, and I feel like some of this chapter was just channeling that inner goof.

Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed. You should see the stupid dance I do every time I get to read what you're all thinking, haha.

As always, thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

The owls came next Tuesday night at dinner.

"What's all that about?" Hermione asked, leaning over Lily's shoulder to read the Daily Prophet in James' lap.

"AUTHOR OF _A WIZARD LIKE YOU_ GRUESOMELY MURDERED" took up a huge portion of the special edition's front page, paired with a wizard picture of a crime scene only partly visible through the fingers of a secretive auror.

"My Mum's got that one at home," Dorcas said, nodding to the book jacket pictured at the bottom, "She wanted to explain to Dad how he's just as good as any other wizard, even if he was muggleborn."

"Woah," Peter said, his jaw dropping, "Looks like the bloke was crucio'd within an inch of his life before-"

"Aw, Pete, we don't want to hear all that," James said, his face twisting like he'd eaten the creamed cabbage.

Hermione, however, did want to hear it. She snatched the paper from him and searched for what she thought she'd read.

A little after the description of the crime scene, she saw what she'd feared she'd seen. "The body of Mr. Musgrove was found with a strange purple scar on his chest which his muggle wife, wailing and weeping over his body, swore hadn't been there the night before."

A further scan showed the list of suspects, and yes, Dolohov's name was listed among those wanted by the DMLE for questioning. A feeling like a swarm of bees moved into her chest. It was a nameless panic, spreading to each tensed nerve. When she looked up, all the fifth year Gryffindors were silently watching her.

She smiled grimly and tried to suck a full breath into her tightening chest. "Just...wondering if there was any connection to the mall attack."

"Was there?" Lily asked, putting her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

In a blink, Hermione knocked over the bench she, Lily, and Dorcas were sitting on and towered over Lily with her wand raised.

"What the hell?" James shouted, pulling his own wand out of his robes just a hair faster than everyone else at the table.

Instinct took over as Hermione wound an iron-tight defensive shield between herself and all the wands pointed at her. _Duck and weave. They can't hit you as easily if you're on the move._ Keeping her shield tight, she maneuvered around various obstacles, shot defensive spells behind her without looking, and then pulled herself flush behind a structure. She counted to ten before shooting off her first offensive spell around the side. _You can probably hold your own here for a few minutes before they penetrate your shields. Think, Hermione, think!_

"Hermione," a soft, female voice said. Hermione's wand paused mid-cast at the gentle tone, one never heard during the thick of battle. She blinked a few times. There were twinkling lights above her, she noticed, and… walls? Where did the trees go? She blinked some more, feeling like she was seeing double. The structure she was hiding behind. It was very tall, and covered in… leather?

"Hermione, can you hear me?" the voice asked again. Hermione, still gripping her wand, peeked around the side of the structure and saw Professor McGonagall with her hands held in front of her a few paces away. Her wand was on the table.

"Alright, Hermione?" a booming voice asked to her side, shaking her leather structure.

"Hagrid, please. Let me handle this," Hermione heard Professor McGonagall whisper. "Hermione. Do you want to come back to my office with me?"

Hermione just stared at Hagrid _(Oh. Not a structure then._ ) and let her eyes glaze over the rest of the scene without taking in anything. _Huh, there's a bunch of benches flipped over and some kids on the ground. Weird, there's bowls of food splattered all over the floor._

"Hermione? Come along, we'll have some tea in my office."

She mutely followed the professor's calm voice, and didn't realized they'd arrived in her office until she'd already finished half her cup of tea. Now there were two soft voices, whispering too quietly for the average human to hear, but Hermione could understand them just fine.

"Do you think she's a danger to the students?"

"There was that incident with her first transformation, but otherwise-"

"Perhaps she has a malformed lycanthropic virus? Maybe it infects her during non-full moons, too."

"Of course not, Poppy. Look at the poor thing. Dead eyes, exhausted, trembling slightly. Surely you read reports of veterans from the last Goblin War?"

"I… I don't understand. There hasn't been a war, at least not in the wizarding world. Have the muggles been in a war?"

"No. But I think…" Professor McGonagall trailed off, her breath hitching.

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound of Professor McGonagall's sniffles. "Thank you," Hermione whispered into her cup, eyes trained on the floor. In an instant, she heard the swish of both women's robes rushing over to her.

"Can you tell me how old you are, Hermione?" Madam Pomfrey asked from a few paces away.

"Nineteen," she murmured.

"And where you are?"

She looked up, noting the rows of bookshelves and the grey-haired witch standing over the armchair. "I'm in Professor McGonagall's office."

"Thank Merlin," Professor McGonagall said, letting out a breath and sitting down. She searched Hermione's face, looking for any sign of distress, but did not touch her. "How do you feel, Miss Granger?"

"I'm so sorry, professor," Hermione said, squeezing her eyes shut. "I don't know what happened. One minute I was reading the newspaper-"

"Let's not think about that right now, dear," she said, offering her a tin of biscuits. "I just want to know if you're feeling alright, first."

She shrugged. "I'm fine, I suppose. Though I do feel rather exhausted."

"I'll bring an extra strength dreamless sleep by your dorm, if you'd like," Madam Pomfrey said, still standing a few paces away.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Why don't you go and grab some now instead? I'm sure Miss Granger has had enough attention for one day."

Madam Pomfrey nodded once and left quickly, leaving the room very quiet aside from the tinkling sounds of china cups, saucers, and spoons. Hermione felt herself relax; hearing the steady heartbeat beside her made her feel, strangely, like everything around her was real again, unlike the dream-like state she'd felt in the Great Hall. They sipped in silence for a while, and Hermione's tea was nearly drained before Professor McGonagall spoke in a voice thick with emotion.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I can't imagine what you've been through."

Hermione merely nodded, the corners of her eyes already beginning to prick and the back of her throat growing dry. She couldn't either, sometimes.

"What happened tonight is very normal for those who have been in battle, though. Did you know that?"

Hermione scowled. "No one I knew who fought in the first war ever did anything stupid like that. Professor Moody was always a little odd and certainly gruff, but everyone else was rather normal."

"Well, they would've had more than a decade to heal before you met them, wouldn't they?"

Hermione paused mid-sip, then put her cup back on its saucer with a bored sigh and grimaced at Professor McGonagall. "Time heals all wounds, right?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Professor McGonagall scoffed, taking a final sip of tea. Her Scottish brogue was quiet and firm when she continued. "I told you when you first came to _make time_ to heal. It doesn't happen on its own, Hermione, nor with the passage of a magic number of weeks, months, or even years. Whether you had your heart broken or you fought in a war, you'll always need to make a conscious effort to accept the past and recover from it."

A half-dozen questions and rebuttals flooded Hermione's mind, but her sensitive hearing picked up the sound of Madam Pomfrey's footsteps coming up the stairs first.

"Here you go, dear," the matron said, brushing her apron absentmindedly and backing away after she'd handed it off. "Well, I must be back to the hospital wing. I've got a poor first year who completely split his lip. You know where to find me if you need anything, Miss Granger?"

Hermione couldn't even nod before her nurse's bonnet slipped out of sight.

"If you don't make that time to heal," Professor McGonagall said, inclining her head towards the closed door, "your pain and your memories will try and find their way out, often in ways you don't expect."

"But it's late now," the older witch sighed, rising from her chair, "you've got an extension for one night on all of your assignments, I'll see to that. Go back to Gryffindor tower and get some sleep."

Hermione stood up and tentatively stuck her hand out. "Thank you, Professor. For everything."

Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione's hand with a small smile. She grasped it with both of her older, softer, wrinkled ones. "You're most welcome, my dear. My door is always open if you need anything."

* * *

Hermione chose not to go back to her dorm and sleep, however. Instead, she hunkered down in her corner of the library, casting the strongest notice-me-not charm she could with her wand held limply and her eyes half-closed. She didn't want to study in her exhausted state, and according to Professor McGonagall she didn't have to, but she was even _less_ willing to walk through the common room and get caught in the crossfire of every Gryffindor's question and stare. That was probably the best case scenario too, considering they'd all had their wands pointed at her recently.

Hours later, when even Madam Pince had left the library dark and silent, Hermione emerged from her nook massaging a crick in her neck. The prefects had finished their rounds by this point, and she took her time slipping through the dark hallways with shoes in hand, sliding in her socks over the smooth stone floors.

"Hermione?" a voice called softly from the couch when Hermione shut the portrait hole with a click. Lily's red hair raised up from the cushions, all bunched and knotted on one side from sleeping on it. "What time is it?"

"About twelve thirty," Hermione said, reading the clock. "Are you going to dock points for my being out past curfew?"

The younger girl shook her head, but made some room on the couch by pulling her knees up to her chest. "Can I ask you something?"

"Do we have to do this tonight?" Hermione already felt the start of a migraine forming, pulsing painfully near her temples. When she closed her eyes to rub her head, she swayed a little. "Ugh, I need to go to bed."

"Come sit on the couch, just for a second." When Hermione hesitated, her eyes narrowed sleepily. "You pulled your wand on me at dinner. I think I deserve at least one answer."

Hermione sighed and collapsed on the open side of the couch, waiting for the inquisition to begin.

"Did I do something to you?" she asked in a small voice, not even meeting Hermione's eye, "I thought we were getting along well, but if you want to move up with the sixth years, or take the seventh year dorm-"

"No no, it's nothing like that. You just reminded me of… something."

"Something," Lily repeated. "That must have been a really awful something. The shopping mall?"

Hermione knew the lie. She'd been telling people for almost two months now. But when she looked up and could just make out those sympathetic green eyes in the dark, eyes she knew so well, she straightened her spine. Professor McGonagall said she needed to accept her past, and there was no one more accepting than Lily. But still...

"You're loyal to your friends, Lily. Would you ever keep a secret from them?"

Lily thought for a moment. "Well, I've never told them about the time I accidentally threw up in Marlene's bed the first time I tried firewhiskey."

Hermione grimaced. "That's… not exactly what I mean. I mean can you keep something big from them? If it meant potentially saving their lives?"

Lily's eyes widened as she sat up straighter on the couch. "Well yeah, of course I would then. What do you mean? Are they in danger?"

"Not exactly. Not now, at least. I don't think." Hermione rubbed her face and tried to find a more comfortable position on the couch, spreading out her legs til they hung over the side closest to Lily. "Did Mary ever tell you something Pandora said when we first met?"

"No. I didn't even knew you'd met Pandora."

"I have. And she said that I was covered in these things called time mites, I think."

"Oh, don't worry about Pandora. She thinks she can see all kinds of creatures."

"I'll bet. I knew someone like her, back home."

Lily nodded, slowly. "Does what happened tonight have to do with your home?"

 _Merlin, this is difficult_ , Hermione cursed. She readjusted herself again, tucking her feet beneath her. "Well, yes."

"Something happened that you're not telling us?" Lily guessed, "The death eaters that attacked your family are going after the other girls?"

Hermione sucked in a long, deep breath. "I'm just afraid you won't believe me. It all sounds so ridiculous when I try to say it."

Lily smiled. "Hermione, we both lived perfectly normal lives for eleven years before finding out we were witches like out of a fairytale. After learning I could do magic, I started believing most anything."

"Right." Looking around for some kind of proof, Hermione finally pulled the thin, gold chain from underneath her jumper. "Do you know what this is?"

"Merlin, how do you have a time turner?" she exclaimed, lunging over to get a closer look. "I've wanted one for ages, but they're highly restricted."

"They're restricted for a reason. In my third year, Professor McGonagall gave me this so I could take all the available elective classes at once. I nearly went crazy from sleep deprivation."

"But you said you were homeschooled, Hermione."

 _In for a penny, in for a pound._ "That's what Professor McGonagall and I decided would be the easiest lie. I… I was never homeschooled. I attended Hogwarts from my first year through my sixth, from 1991 to 1997."

From there the words just poured out, along with a fair number of tears. She covered how Voldemort grew in strength and number twice over, how she and her friends had to fight him almost every year in school in some way, how she'd been in the thick of the war for months towards the end, and how she somehow ended up twenty something years in the past when escaping from a monster on the quidditch pitch. Lily's face widened with every revelation, but Hermione could tell she still wasn't quite getting it. She gulped, and decided to make it a little more personal.

"I could tell you how almost everyone I've met since arriving here died. Dumbledore got the _avada kedavra_ in the astronomy tower and fell. Sirius was murdered by his deranged cousin, the same cousin who tortured Alice into insanity. Voldemort murdered Dorcas personally. Everyone I've met, except for a few students who will become death eaters, is dead where I come from."

"And me?" Lily whispered, horror draining the color from her face.

"You died saving… someone you love. It was a brilliant piece of magic that repelled even the killing curse. There was a holiday named after you."

Lily went so quiet Hermione could hardly hear the air going in and out of her lungs. She worried she'd been too descriptive when a sob tore its way out of Lily.

"How? How can you have been through so much?" she asked, pulling Hermione into a hug that tangled their legs on the couch. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"It's alright," Hermione said, rubbing her back, "it was my life. But now I'm here, and I really need you to not tell anyone. Professor McGonagall thinks I was sent here to change things, but I can't if everyone knows where I'm from. If I tell the wrong person, Voldemort himself will be after me, I'm sure of it. He wouldn't want someone from the future trying to muck up his eventual victory."

Lily broke away. "I promise I won't tell. But you really could change everything! If you know how we all died, you just make sure we're not there on that day or at that time. You could teach us spells from the future and tell us when the death eaters will attack muggles and-"

"Woah, Lily. Believe me, I've thought of all that. But it won't work."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione's head was getting too heavy to hold up on her own so she leaned into the couch. "I don't understand everything perfectly, but it's a mysterious thing, time. It's powerful, and when meddled with, dangerous. If I tried to simply save people from dying, someone else would die in their place. Or they'd die the next day when I didn't know how to save them. It would be like trying to bail out the Titanic with a beach bucket. Bad stuff would keep finding its own way in."

Lily, tears slipping down her cheeks, carded her fingers through Hermione's hair, and Hermione felt herself relax for the first time since she started the conversation. Lily let her nails lightly scratch her scalp in a way that made Hermione close her eyes, then she exhaled a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry. I asked for the answer to a single question and now you've worn yourself out. You want to head up to bed?" Hermione nodded, eyes still closed. She felt Lily grab her hands and pull her up off the couch, then they shuffled in the dark up to the dorm.

Lily stopped at the door. "If this is weird, you can say so and forget I asked," she said, sounding uncomfortable, "but my older sister and I would sometimes share a bed if one of us had a bad day, or a nightmare, or something."

Hermione remembered how many times she, Ron, and Harry ended up sleeping in a pile on those cold nights on the run, or when they were too tired to fully set up camp. Harry would sling his arm over her shoulders and Ron's chest would make a perfect pillow. A few times when she'd woken from a nightmare, shaking in her curtained, shielded bed, she'd imagined their arms holding her tightly until she fell back to sleep.

"That sounds nice, actually," Hermione said, "but let me take a dreamless sleep first. Madam Pomfrey gave me an extra strength dose tonight. She didn't want me waking the whole tower with a nightmare after what happened at dinner."

Lily's face only showed surprise for a second before she nodded, then pulled the curtains and comforter over to make room for a second girl.

Lily fell asleep rather quickly, her slow, even breaths tickled Hermione's shoulder and made the corners of her mouth curve up slightly. Ginny used to do that the few times they shared a bed at the Burrow. With her eyes closed, Hermione could almost remember the sound of Ginny's snores that would come soon after. Lily's body was curled up a few inches away from Hermione's, but Ginny always kicked in her sleep and slept with her arms or legs splayed out all over the bed.

Hermione sighed. Even with a warm, comforting body next to her, it was still the ghosts of her friends that eventually sent her off to sleep.

 _We love you, Hermione,_ they would say, their familiar whispers washing over her until she nodded off. _Go to sleep. You're doing a brilliantly. Don't worry, you're safe. We're watching out for you._

 _We'll always watch out for you._

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! Not only was I dealing with some gross health issues (still am, actually), but this chapter really fought me. What you see now is literally the fourth draft.

Speaking of drafts, I'd like to send out a call for an alpha reader. I'm not worried about my spelling/grammar, but I recognize that a second pair of eyes before publishing would be really helpful. If you're interested in helping me (with pacing and clarity especially), say so in a comment or drop me a PM!

Even if you can't/aren't interested in alpha reading, I'm still happy to hear all your comments, and I'm so grateful to those who have supported this story. I love writing, and you all apparently caring about this is the most wonderful feeling.

As always, thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

The fireplace was crackling in the Gryffindor common room just before curfew on the Wednesday before Christmas holidays. While most of the students were breaking off to sleep, all the fifth years were still piled up in front of the fire, munching on treats from last weekend's Hogsmead adventure and ignoring the upcoming separation.

Hermione had told Professor McGonagall she wasn't interested in going down to the village, which was mostly true. Her NEWT classes had piled on the pre-holiday work, and she needed plenty of time to complete it. Plus, she told herself, she'd been to Hogsmead a million times, and it's not like she had money to spend.

Hermione watched Remus from across the room. He was standing tensely behind one of the couches, biting the corner of his nail. He'd been perfectly at ease before she'd come from the library, but now he looked like he'd rather be swimming in the Black Lake. Then, her gaze connected with Remus' for an instant, his adam's apple bobbing slightly.

"So what is everyone doing for the holidays?" he asked, snapping his gaze away while taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

"Oh I can't wait!" Alice piped up, perking up from her spot in the old armchair. "We're going to London with my aunt and uncle. Frederick is in St. Mungo's again, but-" she paused, composing herself.

There was a beat of silence in their corner of the room. Everyone knew Alice's younger brother hadn't come back to Hogwarts because he was dying. Someone unwrapped a chocolate and noisily chewed it. Alice, shifting in her seat, tried again. "Fredrick's doing better, though. The healers think he might be walking in another few months if he responds to treatment."

When that didn't work to revive the conversation, she threw it to Dorcas. "What are you doing over the holiday?"

Dorca's face fell and she whispered, "I think we're going to France, actually."

"You don't look too happy about it," Marlene noted, popping a handful of chocolates in her mouth.

"Dad started up a sort of adult muggleborn support group recently," she explained, squeezing the hand Pandora just offered, "but now, after what happened to Mr. Musgrove, they were thinking a little time out of the country might help everything cool down."

"He hasn't been in any trouble for it, has he?" Sirius asked, sitting up straighter.

"He's gotten a few letters, anonymous mostly. No one's said anything to his face, though."

"That's how it starts," Sirius said, knowingly, "it's probably not a bad idea for him to take a holiday for a few weeks."

"Pads?" James said, turning to him, "you aren't serious, are you?"

"I'm always Sirius," he said, a half-smile forming and dying on his lips, "but you know my family. I've watched my Mum write letters like that. Nothing's more intimidating than a Black woman and a quill."

"Bloody hell," James said, slapping him on the back, "good thing you're spending the hols with me then, huh?"

Sirius' cocky smile returned at that, and he cranked it to full flirtatious power when he turned to Hermione. "What about you, kitten? Got any big plans?"

"Don't call me kitten," she corrected without thinking, "but no. I like Hogwarts. I figured I'd catch up on some reading while everyone else was away."

"You aren't remotely behind," Sirius scoffed, "you revise even more than Remus!"

"You don't have any other family?" Alice asked, gently, "Aunts or uncles or cousins or anything?"

"Mum and Dad were both only children, and all my grandparents passed when I was little." Hermione said, truthfully. It was nice to not lie about something.

"Well then you'll come to Spinner's End with me," Lily said, twisting around to catch Hermione's eye. "We'll give you a proper muggle Christmas, just like you're used to."

Hermione felt her heart swell in gratitude. "Lily, are you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"Tuney always brings home friends for the holiday. Why shouldn't I? Plus, I can introduce you to an Evans tradition- land the wreath on the runner. It's like those carnival games, but we get to sprint around the house." Lily looked like a five year old, her smile almost as bright as the firelight bouncing off her red hair.

"Um, Hermione?" Remus said, walking cautiously back to the group, tugging on his ear, "I thought you told me you had something to do that first week before Christmas. Something important?"

Hermione was confused for a moment, since she hadn't told Remus anything since the last full moon, then her eyes grew wide. The moon was coming. _That's_ why she'd felt irritable all week. She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"I can't believe I forgot about that. You're right, McGonagall did ask me to check in with her for that first week."

"Why would Professor McGonagall need you? You've already got your NEWT levels for transfiguration," Mary noted, slowly unwrapping a pack of licorice wands as she watched Hermione.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said, hoping she sounded unconcerned, "she just said she needed me. She probably figured I'd be staying anyway, since there's nowhere else to go."

"Well, can you see what she wants?" Lily asked, "Maybe we'd be able to pick you up from King's Cross a week later or something."

Hopefully, Hermione thought as she settled back into the settee. She hadn't really been looking forward to spending three weeks alone in Gryffindor tower without anyone to distract her. She could only focus on her books for so long before the memories started to press in. Visiting Lily would be the perfect distraction.

* * *

Remus' reminder about the moon spurred her to wake before the sun the next morning and hit the potions room. As she slipped down the hall, she double checked the recipe, going over every possible error and reassuring herself with the handful of barely-useful books she'd checked out of the library. She'd been nicking the few necessities she needed since Damocles had written the ingredients down, and she'd finally gathered everything.

She sat down on the bench, guilt swirling in the bottom of her stomach as she poured the first liquid into the cauldron. Most of the ingredients were ones no one would miss, but aconite was expensive and tricky to get. She prayed Alice either wouldn't notice or would forgive her for the stolen leaves.

Hours later, the first beams of sunlight were filtering in from the dungeon windows when Hermione threw a glass vial of newt eyes across the room.

"Excuse me, calm down!" Professor Slughorn said, huffing and puffing into the room and stopping short when he saw the cause. "Hermione? What are you doing in here so early?"

Hermione's face burned as she rushed over to clean up the mess. "I'm sorry, professor. I was working on a project and got frustrated, and-"

"Well that's no excuse for damaging property," he interrupted, giving her a stern look, "I'm going to have to dock five points from Gryffindor."

"Of course, professor. I'll just leave for breakfast." She started stuffing the ingredients into her book bag.

"Now hold on, I didn't say I wouldn't help you with your potions problem. What has the unruffable Hermione Granger so confuddled?"

"Oh no, that's quite alright, Professor Slughorn, it's just a stupid problem, I'm sure my potions partner can help me with it next class." She made sure to hide the piece of parchment with the recipe in the very bottom of her pocket. The last thing she wanted was for Horace Slughorn to get credited with discovering the wolfsbane potion years ahead of time.

"It's not a problem, Hermione. And I actually haven't had much time to get to know you since you've come to Hogwarts. Why don't you show me- ooo, what do you have here? This must be a very interesting project if you're using monkshood."

Hermione held her breath as he inspected the rest of her ingredients in her bag, her mind flying over every possible lie. "It's for Professor McGonagall," she finally said, hoping that McGonagall would cover for her.

"Surprised she didn't ask me," Professor Slughorn murmured under his breath, squinting at a tiny, dark vial, then squinting at her. "This is a type of mind-altering, potion, is it not? I have to ask if it's legal."

Hermione bit her lip, but finally caved. "Yes. Well, there's no chance for it to be illegal yet. It's brand new, but there's no reason for it to be illegal. It's not something I came up with, obviously, but the creator gave me the recipe as long as I promised not to sell it."

"I see. And what is the intended purpose, if not to maliciously alter someone's mind?"

"...I don't think I should say. I wanted to test it out first."

"Forgive me, Hermione, but you seem to be a bit out of your depths. You cannot just 'test out' an untried potion in the Hogwarts potion classroom. In order to truly create something new, there are procedures you must follow, letters of permission you must collect, preliminary methods to be approved-"

Hermione cast a strong _muffilato_ over the pair of them and began to whisper. "I intend to remove the worst effects of the lycanthropy virus by allowing the human mind to remain in control of the wolf's body on the full moon, but I need to make this potion ready for tonight. Can you help me?"

Professor Slughorn's eyes began to gleam as she'd hoped they would, already becoming intoxicated with the possibility of seeing a scientific breakthrough in his own classroom. "Indeed? Well that certainly would be quite the achievement. We could always do things a little out of order, should your project prove successful enough, I suppose."

Growing bolder, she pulled the ingredient list out of her pocket. "You see, I was having difficulty getting the minced newt eye to fully dissolve into the rest of the mixture…"

The two ended up working side-by-side for much of the morning. Hermione knew she could easily make up the reading for History of Magic over the holidays, but the little bit of guilt from skipping class only added to the rest churning in her stomach. She also hadn't figured out how she was going to convince Remus to drink the potions, but there was more guilt to come before she evenhad to cross that bridge with him.

Just before lunch, professor and student were standing over a faintly smoking, blue liquid.

"There it is," she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"It certainly seems that way," he said, wafting the smell towards him and noting it on their test parchment.

"Could I borrow one of your large vials to put it in?" she asked, nodding her head towards the potion master's closet.

Professor Slughorn never even heard her whisper _obliviate_ as he was puttering around in the supply cabinet, looking for… something. What was it he came in here looking for?

 _You're getting to be quite the old man_ , he thought before stretching his arms and heading to the Great Hall, absently noting Hermione's bushy head running up a flight of stairs. He was absolutely famished for breakfast.

* * *

A few hours later, Hermione paced on the poop-stained floor of the owlery, rubbing her arms against the bone-chilling wind coming of the Black Lake. She'd sent a note via charmed paper airplane, like she'd seen in the Ministry of Magic twenty something years in the future:

 _I've got something for you. Not for Christmas, since I heard you tell Lily you don't do presents, but something else. It'll help for next week. Even better than one of Flopsy's lava cakes, if you can believe it. I'll be up with the owls._

 _Trust me, pease?_

Hermione wrung her hands, thinking about that last line. Maybe the question mark made it sound a bit too needy. It did, didn't it? But if that's what it took to get him up here, she was fine with that. She was. She could be seen as needy if it would save his life. Well, not his life, but his full moon, at least. But what if-

"Hello?"

Hermione's runaway train of thought crashed off the cliffs when she saw him standing there in the doorway, hair flying every which way in the wind and two cotton balls stuffed up his nostrils.

"It helps with… you know," he said, sheepishly. "Anyway. You said you had something for me?"

"Oh. Yeah, I did," Hermione said, biting her lip as she pulled the potion bottle out of her pocket. "I don't even know how to explain how I got this, honestly."

"Is it illegal?" he asked, taking it from her with his forefinger and thumb like he was afraid of touching it too much.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Hermione murmured before sucking in a great breath. She'd practiced this. "Remember the first day I met you, and I told you I'd seen a werewolf before? That was a friend of mine. He taught me about everything about how to judge a werewolf by the man he is the other 29 days a month, and how unfair it is to judge him or her otherwise. He also taught me about this special potion that helps him. It's still in the developmental stage, but I can promise it works." Remus was staring at her now, bafflement spreading across his face. "It can't cure lycanthropy, I'm afraid. You'll still have to change when the moon's full, but you won't ever have to wake up to a body covered in scars ever again, or worry that you'll get out or hurt someone. You'll stay you, in your head."

"Impossible," he whispered, "absolutely impossible. My Dad would have heard of it. He's spent my entire life studying lycanthropy and trying to get me treatments, and-"

"It's still in development, I said. I can't even talk about it with Professor Slughorn, actually. I couldn't get it for the last time we spent the moon together, but I got some for this one. You'll need to take one dose every night for the seven nights leading up to the moon. Then, when you shift, your mind… well, it'll stay human. You'll be able to stay Remus every day of the year, even if your body changes a bit every so often."

"What about you?"

Hermione's heart did a double beat. She hadn't expected that question. "Well, unfortunately, I'm not a were _ **wolf**_. The potion's called _**wolf**_ sbane. I have no idea how I'd react to it, and I don't want to chance it until I can study it more. It can be really dangerous for humans to take."

Remus pulled his dark blue jumper closer around him, glaring at the direction of the wind. He took a few minutes to process, then shook his head, huffing. "You're offering me this mystery potion of a lifetime, something I've literally never dreamed of. But I have to take it seven times, I can't ask Professor Slughorn about it, and you're not having any. Did I miss anything?"

"It'll taste like hippogriff backwash, so I'm told."

Remus snorted. "Forgive me for not being interested."

"I knew you'd be suspicious," she said, "and you have every right to be. I know I'm just some stranger who wandered in, and after last month I know you can't stand to be around me, but trust me on this." She pulled her wand out from her pocket. "I'm willing to take an unbreakable vow. I promise, I'm only giving you this because I know it'll work, and I want to help."

Remus stared at her for a long time, like he was trying to read everything she wasn't saying. "Give me a minute," he finally said, then went back down the stairs. Hermione waited, absently running her fingers along the wings of the warm owls.

Peter's whiny voice carried from the very bottom of the staircase a few moments later."Why couldn't you have grabbed James? I was busy."

"I told you, he's a little _horn_ y right now."

"Deer don't have horns, they have antlers, and-"

"I know, I know. But you can't make any good innuendos with the word _antler_ ," Remus complained, and Hermione could almost hear the eye roll. "Believe me, Sirius has tried."

"Still. Why'dja have to grab me? James is gonna unstuck from the fireplace in no time and-"

"Just shut up, Wormtail," Remus snapped as they came around the corner. Peter looked like he'd been taken from the middle of another Honeyduke's binge, as there were still dots of melted chocolate around the corners of his chubby face. No wonder he was cranky. He looked back and forth between the two werecreatures and sighed.

"Moony says you need me for an unbreakable vow?"

"Yes, if that's ok," Hermione said, sticking out her right hand and pulling up her sleeve to the elbow. She shivered when the wind bit into her skin, but held it firm. "I, Hermione Granger, am offering Remus Lupin a seven day supply of the wolfsbane potion for the purpose of helping him keep his mind during the full moon."

"And you didn't tamper with it to do anything other than it's purpose?" Peter asked, quietly but with some suspicious.

"I did not, and will not for the remainder of the potions."

"Do you need me to do anything, for my part for this vow?" Remus asked, his hands still in his pocket.

Hermione thought for a minute, then asked, "Would you swear to not tell anyone about this potion, with the understanding that it will soon be available to werewolves everywhere?"

"I can do that," he said after a moment, pulling up his own sleeve up and taking Hermione by the forearm with a strong grip.

When their skin made contact, Hermione felt a jolt of electricity shoot straight to her heart, and she was suddenly very, very aware of every inch of skin Remus's muscular arm was touching. Peter cast the spell on their hands, and Hermione felt a tingling up and down where the golden light joined them together, every tiny shift in their position sent a dozen more tingles. She tilted her head up to see Remus' lower lip puckered slightly and his chest expanding in a long, slow breath, like someone fighting to stay still.

When the golden thread disappeared and Hermione let go, Remus held on, sliding his still clasped hand down her arm until he was stopped by her wrist. Hermione's breath came shallowly as he let go one finger at a time, dancing each pad over her sensitive palm. She almost reached out to prolong the contact, but Peter and his horrible timing stepped in to slap Remus on the back, sending the cotton balls sailing out of his nose.

"Oi, you tosser, I was-" Remus started before his face twisted up in disgust. He covered his mouth with his hand, the same hand he'd just traced down her arm, and backed up. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm-" he didn't finish the sentence, a fit of gagging coming over him as he raced down the stairs, two at a time.

Peter looked at Hermione with a waggle of his eyebrows. "I have a bet going that he's still gonna kiss you, but then he'll just throw up in your mouth in the middle of it."

"You vile little cockroach!" she seethed, pulling her wand on the younger boy and making him trip down the stairs twice as fast as his roommate.

Alone on top of the owlery again, Hermione sighed and pulled her sleeve down, tracing the pattern Remus had drawn as she covered her skin again. She had to remind herself that she hadn't made the wolfsbane to become his friend again. She'd said it was impossible, and now he'd just proven it.

She kept telling herself that like the rhythm of an engine, as she made her way back to the warm Gryffindor dorms to help her roommates pack for their train trip tomorrow. _Impossible, impossible, impossible._

And yet there was still a tiny, maddeningly hopeful voice in the back of her mind. Hermione imagined the little voice coming from a little insect, rather like a cockroach, scurrying around her mind and infecting her with detailed memories of how Remus's finger felt on her arm, wrist, and palm.

Hermione squashed it.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this chapter. Many days home sick, one trip to the hospital, and a few meds later and I'm good as new! I don't know about any of you, but fanfiction is always what gets me through sickdays. Is anyone else reading Soul Scars by Shayalonnie? That's been my saving grace, stuck here in bed. I just love good ol' trope fiction.

Also, I'm still interested in a beta reader of sorts if you're interested.

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione woke up to the overpowering smell of urine and blood.

It seemed to come from every corner of the Shrieking Shack, including the one where she'd stashed her clean clothes the night before. There was a pile of splinters where the stained sofa used to be that smelled no better. It was her own skin that reeked worst of all, though. She gagged a little before remembering to breathe through her mouth.

Hermione tried to lift her head, but it felt like a iron weight was closing around her neck. Instead, she pried her eyes open and saw angry gashes, dozens of them crisscrossing her torso and legs. They'd stopped bleeding for the most part, but there was a group of five jagged lines stretching from wrist to bicep on the inside of her arm that still had little red drops oozing and dripping to the floor. The muscles in that arm shuddered when she tried to push herself up, and she collapsed under her own weight.

Surprisingly though, it was a strange sense of loneliness that was worse than the physical pain and disgust. She'd noticed something similar the last time she woke up in the shack; the dominant emotion her feline form had felt the night before lingered both times. Last month, she woke up still terrified of a wolf in her space. This time, she had a gnawing sensation of being incomplete, like there was a part of her missing.

That was ridiculous, of course. She was probably just missing a pint of blood, more like.

 _Madam Pomfrey will come soon with blood replenishing potions,_ she thought, slowly inching herself into a ball against the freezing December temperatures. The sun was barely up, but Hermione could still see her breath coming out in puffs through the light cracking through the walls.

While she waited, she listened to the world outside. Her sensitive hearing could pick up the crinkling sound of ice crystals compressing in the giant snow drifts around the shack, a herd of centaurs picking their way around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and… wait.

Someone was running, full speed, towards the shack from the Whomping Willow entrance. It was so loud, she wondered how she hadn't heard it before. To Hermione, it sounded exactly like someone who ran because they knew the shack was occupied, and why.

Hermione's heart started to race. Neither Madam Pomfrey nor Professor McGonagall would be running like that, and no one else should know she was here except the Maruaders, who had all left on the Hogwarts Express days ago. Had someone pieced together her condition so easily? Remus had years of hiding his lycanthropy, but maybe she was too new and slipped up somehow. It felt like the walls were caving in on her.

Her wand was on the other side of the room, tucked under a floorboard to prevent her snapping it during the chaotic night. She was naked as the day she was born, and even if she could move, her clothes were shredded and covered in blood and piss. If someone wanted to kill her, they'd picked the perfect opportunity.

She threw up her best (truly pathetic) wandless shield just before the runner reached the door, and squeezed her eyes tightly.

"HERMIONE-" Remus' voice hollered, the rest of him hurtling into the room and stopping at the edge of her poorly-made shield. "Oh _Merlin_ , Hermione." He stepped over the invisible barrier easily and knelt at her side, shrugging off his oversized shirt to cover her. "You look awful. Can I help? Can you move?"

Hermione shook her head, weakly, and cracked an eye open to look him over. "Did it work?"

Remus pressed his lips together and nodded rapidly, a smile threatening to overwhelm him. "Look," he said, flipping his arms front to back. There wasn't a single scratch marring his skin.

The corners of Hermione's lips lifted as her eyes slipped closed again. She'd done it.

"I'm not sure where on earth Madam Pomfrey is," Remus muttered, "I flooed in through the hospital wing hoping to find you there, then ran all the way down here when I saw you weren't. Didn't see her once. Weird. Ok Hermione, I'm going to bring you back to the castle now, alright?"

She didn't have the energy left for more than a soft hum. Moments later, she was immobilized and they were on their way. It was then Hermione realized the sense of overwhelming loneliness was gone.

* * *

"It was like being able to catch my breath for the first time," Remus explained after Madam Pomfrey had finished fussing over them both. The mediwitch had peppered Remus with questions since they stumbled in. She poked and prodded his scarless arms and swollen nose (" _I punched myself so I wouldn't gag in front of Hermione!"_ he kept explaining), trying to run tests while they let Hermione sleep. He didn't leave her side while she slept through the morning, changing her dressings and applying salves as necessary, even though his own spinal transformation scars should have been screaming in pain.

Now that she was awake, he sat in a chair he'd pulled up beside her bed and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging in frustration. He tried again. "Can you even imagine what it was like? It was... like not needing an oxygen tank to go scuba diving. No, it was more like when you go Hogsmead and- oh, right, you've never been to Hogsmead. Um…"

"It's alright, Remus," Hermione said, smiling. "I've hardly had to spend any time transforming, so I imagine it'd be just like what I used to experience all the time."

"No," he said, shaking his head so hard, tufts of hair stuck up in the back, "because you always knew what that was like. This was as if I were color blind and you showed me a rainbow, or had never tasted chocolate and you brought me to Honeydukes and handed me a hundred galleons."

His eyes were closed and a small smile played on his lips. Hermione was amazed at how much peace she felt just watching him relive the past night's surprise. The sunlight now filtered in through the large window, and combined with his joy, he looked younger than she'd ever seen him.

"I just had to come see you as soon as the sun rose. To apologize for not believing you, mostly. I'm sorry, really."

Hermione waved the apology away with her good arm, her bad one still acting as a bookmark in _Hogwarts: A History_. "I would have been just as suspicious if it were you. Honestly, don't worry about it."

"But I have to make it up to you! You don't know how grateful I am, and-"

"Remus, I think we're even, since you brought me here. Who knows what was taking Madam Pomfrey so long, but I'm glad you were there so I didn't bleed out. Plus, you're my friend and I wanted to help you. Can we just leave it at that?"

Remus's eyebrows knitted together in surprise. "Friends?"

"Of course! What else would we be?" she asked, stomping down any hope that tried to float to the surface.

"Right. Of course. Friends," Remus repeated, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. "I just... I treated you like crap recently. Never thought you'd be ok with being friends again."

Hermione looked at him. "Remus, you're a good person. I can tell."

Remus just shook his head and scowled.

"You are! You take care of your friends and you revise for your exams and you even chew with your mouth closed." She threw in the last one to make him smile, but his lips stayed in a long, solemn line. She sighed.

"You really want to make it up to me?"

His eyes flew up to meet hers and he stared, earnestly. "Anything."

Hermione gulped, caught off guard by his intensity, but continued, "You could go downstairs and ask Flopsy if she'd make us a lava cake, then see if you can sneak it past Madame Pomfrey."

He threw her a grin as his chair scraped against the floor. As he darted out of the hospital wing, the wind from his burst of speed causing the pages in _Hogwarts: A History_ to flutter forward to a picture of a dark wizard, his wand raised in a way that looked like he was about to curse the reader.

Shuddering, Hermione slammed the book shut.

* * *

When Madame Pomfrey finally cleared her from the hospital wing, Hermione went straight to her room to begin packing. Even if it was another two days before the Evans would pick her up at King's Cross, she couldn't wait.

Well, she could wait for some parts. Meeting the horrid woman Harry had to call "Aunt Petunia" wasn't something she particularly wanted to do, nor was visiting the dreary place Sirius once said they grew up. But it meant spending time with Lily, and she could get through the less pleasant bits for her sake.

It was once she'd chosen which books she absolutely needed on her holidays that she noticed a beautiful barred owl pecking at her window.

"Well come inside," she said, pulling the glass pane quickly shut against the cold once the bird hopped in. "What have you got for me?"

In the great owl's talons was a finely wrapped scroll, sealed with the official ring of Hogwart's Deputy Headmistress. Perplexed, Hermione slipped it open and began to read.

" _My dear Hermione,_

 _I'd apologize for not being able to stay through the Christmas holidays, but Miss Evans informs me you'll be joining her family at a later date. I'm glad to see you making friends here and wisely allowing them to help you._

 _I would also inquire as to the status of your research? Have you finished the book I lent you, for starters? I don't pretend to know how dire the situation is in this particular year, but I must entreat you not to waste time simply improving your N.E.W.T. scores. This time surely wasn't chosen by accident._

 _You know, of course, that I would be happy to help if you should need anything, and that my library (or the majority of it) is at your disposal._

 _Wishing you the happiest of Christmases,_

 _Minerva"_

A trickle of guilt slid down Hermione's spine. It wasn't like she'd forgotten that this wasn't her original time. Not having anything to wear to Lily's house other than a single, borrowed pair of bell-bottom jeans and a tight, plaid jumper made sure of that. There had just been so much else to deal with, between Remus and the moons, that the end of wizarding kind seemed less imminent.

 _Stupid, Hermione,_ she said as she kicked herself and added one more book into her new bag with an undetectable extension charm. Looks like this Christmas, she'd be working overtime in the research department. Hopefully, it would be dull enough at the Evan's house that no one would mind if she took an hour here or there to 'work on homework.' As long as Lily's excessive Christmas spirit could be contained, Hermione might be able to figure out a plan to run by Minerva, or at least the first few steps of it, by New Year's.

* * *

A/N: You lovely, lovely readers. Thank you for sticking with this story. I'm only still writing because I know some of you out there are reading it.

Please share what parts are working for you and what parts seem to need work. I'm also at a fork in the road, plotting down at chapter twenty. Knowing the characters and plotlines you guys like best will help me decide where to take it. Thank you in advance. :)

Also, to the guest back in MAY (I'm so, so sorry) who asked how often this story updates, the answer is whenever I can fight my anxiety enough. This summer hasn't been great, so far. But in the meantime, you should check out _Stages_ by SableUnstable if you haven't already. She updates about as frequently as I do, but her writing is many, many times better.


	13. Chapter 13

To say that the Evans family was having a Blue Christmas would be an understatement.

For starters, Mr. Evans had blown a fuse while trying to set up the Christmas tree lights, and the power still hadn't come back on. An absence of candles and a bare sliver of moon meant more than one stubbed toe until they could find the torches. Worse than the dark, though, was the stove. No power meant a stone cold stove in the kitchen, which meant no goose cooked with all the trimmings, which meant leftover ham and cheese sandwiches with crisps for dinner on Christmas Eve.

Worse than all of that, though, was young Petunia. She hadn't earned any of her A levels the previous spring, so instead of leaving home to pursue a career as a nurse like she'd told everyone she'd be doing, she was stuck working at a nearby bakery, a job she evidently thought below her. If she'd limited herself to pouting faces and sighing into her sandwich, it might have been tolerable. Instead, she was defending herself to Hermione, listing each and every reason why she couldn't be blamed for her poor scores. Judging by the looks on the rest of the faces at the dinner table, it wasn't the first time they'd been treated to this lecture. So far, Hermione had been told that Petunia's maths professor hated her, a girl in class was tapping her pencil too loudly during the exam, and that she'd had a temperature of 38 degrees the day of. She was launching into a speech about how working at a bakery was 'just a stepping stone' when the doorbell rang.

A look of horror crossed Lily's face. She grabbed Hermione's hand and excused them to revise for their Care of Magical Creatures exams, running up the stairs before Petunia could get to the door.

"What the hell?" Hermione said once they were safely in Lily's attic bedroom.

"Trust me," Lily whispered, her ear pressed against the wood grain of the door, "the last person you want to meet is Vernon 'the Vermin' Dursley."

Hermione sat down, saying nothing about her previous encounters with the disgusting man. She knew how downright deplorable he would come to be, and she could imagine he was just as bad now. Downstairs, beginnings of an argument were brewing, with Mr. Evans and Vernon raising their voices back and forth like competing claps of thunder.

"C'mon," Lily said, reaching under her bed to grab a rucksack and tipping her head towards the window. "Let's get out of here."

Hermione had already pulled out her book from Minerva, hoping Lily honestly needed to work on school work. Her face must have shown her slight disappointment because Lily laughed and said, "Oh go on. We'll bring the books with us."

* * *

They found a run-down 24 hour diner a few blocks away from Main St. in Cokeworth, across the street from what Lily said was Dorcas' house, abandoned for the holidays as promised. They shared a grim look between them before settling in.

"The Vermin is the reason Tuney didn't get her A levels, after all," Lily confided in a stage whisper over her plain white mug of coffee. "She came home one time at three in the morning, her face covered in sharpie penises. The Vermin's truck sped away, but Dad knew who she'd been with. Hasn't liked him since."

"Does she owl you to talk about this stuff?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. She'd always wondered what it was like to have a sister.

"Oh Merlin, no. Tuney won't go within a meter of an owl. But this was going on all summer- the Vermin would try to sneak her out, then Dad would try to 'put his foot down.' They'd take turns winning, but later in the week it'd happen all over again. I just learned to make myself scarce before it really starts."

The diner, in comparison to the Evans house, was dull and quiet. Not many people sought out runny eggs and stale coffee on Christmas Eve, apparently. Hermione and Lily had a booth by the front window, their books propped up on almost every square centimeter of the table. Hermione covered them both with a sturdy disillusionment charm, and the two of them got lost in their studies for hours like that. It was almost midnight before Hermione had to stand up and stretch.

The book Minerva had lent her was a strange read, to be sure. The late-eighteenth century magical philosopher waxed poetic about Time and its properties, often referring to it as She or "My Dark Mistress." He wrote near dissertations on each of the five times when he'd calculated time had entered a 'dead end' and had then been rewritten through that person or event Time called 'the ark.' Each time, the author included direct quotes from Time herself. Hermione could see why most people wrote him off as completely barmy.

Still, there was one section she couldn't get out of her head. In describing the fifth and final dead end, an apparently _worse_ Reign of Terror, Lord Abrams summarized Time's reasoning behind the times and locations she chose to place the ark. She'd almost memorized the passage.

"Every time!" saeyth my Dark Mistress to her obedient servant, "there's this one idiot who tips the scales from My being salvageable to past the point of no return. It's usually a young bloke, one who feels like he has nothing left to lose, or else he's drunk on power. He thinks he's doing the right thing, or he feels backed into a corner. So I send another bloody ark right before Mr. Idiot screws up, let the ark stop him, and then I can relax again."

Her first thought after reading 'drunk on power' was Voldemort. He fit the line about 'thinks he's doing the right thing,' too. But as Hermione absently twirled the stirring straw in her mug, she reconsidered. Wouldn't Time have plopped her in a death eater den if that's who she was supposed to save? Plus, as far as Hermione was concerned, Voldemort was far beyond the point of no return.

She thought about other people she'd crossed paths with at Hogwarts. There were so many death eaters she'd recognized. Pettigrew came to mind, but as far as she knew, he wasn't consequential enough to sign magical Time's death warrant. Perhaps she was being unfair, but she refused to believe that anyone whose animagus form was a rat could change the world so much.

And that's when it hit her. _Snape._

She'd met him the second day she arrived. She knew he turned to the death eaters some time before leaving Hogwarts, and if the conversation she overheard in the library was good information, she could trust that he hadn't crossed over quite yet. She'd already spoken with him a few times. Perhaps showing him the word Mudblood carved into her arm and telling him to _pick your friends carefully_ had made him decide against being a death eater already. After all, he'd looked so innocent and horrified by the dark scar. Hermione smiled to herself. She'd probably been making headway without even knowing it!

Feeling better than she had all night, she began to suggest they head back home when something outside the window caught her eye. Three figures in dark robes had their backs to the diner, lit wands in each of their hands. She noticed the muggle repelling charm almost immediately, and tugged on Lily's sleeve to get her attention.

"Bloody hell! Dorcas' house!" Lily swore, getting up out of the booth and running out the door. "Hey! You lot!"

Hermione followed after her, reaching the redhead in time to shove her out of the way of a nasty slicing hex.

From then on, Hermione moved on autopilot. Block, block, attack was the pattern in her mind, playing over and over as she fought every curse, jinx, and unidentifiable hex the three hooded figures threw at her. The street came alive with their spells, red and green lights bouncing off the brick walls like a macabre Christmas decoration.

She caught a glimpse of red hair at one point, someone who threw a terrific stupefy at the smallest death eater, causing him or her to topple over.

"Nice one, Ginny!" she called out over her shoulder as she finally landed a binding spell on the largest of the three death eaters. He crashed to the ground terrifically, sending a flurry of snow up around him. The last death eater took advantage of the reduced visibility though, and Hermione could just barely see their fluttering black cloak disappear behind the building as the snow finally settled.

"C'mon, we can still catch them!" she called behind her, rolling her sleeves up as she prepared to run.

"No, stop it!"

Hermione looked down at her wrist to where a small, pale hand was clenching her tightly. Usually, that wouldn't stop her from chasing a death eater, but something about this hand gave her pause. Looking up, she saw the hand was connected to an arm, which was connected to a head, which was definitely not Ginny's.

As all the pieces crashed into place, the hand belonging to Lily tugged her back into the diner, murmuring about aurors. The waitress looked up at the sound of the door opening and the cold blast of air that followed, but blinked in confusion when she couldn't see the two girls quickly gathering their books and belongings and head back out into the night.

Not long afterwards, a thunderous _crack_ sounded in the center of the street in front of the Meadowes family home. Two women and a man in auror's robes took up defensive positions in front of the diner before noticing two incapacitated men in black hoods and cloaks lying on the sidewalk, the dual long over. While the other two arrested and disarmed the death eaters, the third auror noticed two sets of small footsteps across the street, obviously belonging to the successful dualists. When she followed them, however, they ended abruptly around the corner in the middle of the street.

* * *

When Hermione and Lily finally reached the Evans family doorstep they were greeted by the grandfather clock chiming one in the morning and an ornate, gigantic owl on the railing.

The feathered beast must have been waiting for quite some time because it hopped impatiently from one foot to the other, the large roll of parchment tied to his leg bouncing each time.

"I didn't even know owls were allowed to deliver this late," Lily murmured quietly, balancing on the edge of the doorstep away from the owl. "What if it's from… them?"

"Don't be silly, Lily," Hermione snapped, "What are they going to do? Send us a congratulatory letter and ask for a rematch?"

"Well I'm _sorry_ I've never had to fight an entire pack of death eaters before," Lily snapped back, "so forgive me for being cautious!"

The owl squawked at the two girls.

"Oh fine," Hermione said snatching the scroll and, after giving the owl a death glare to send it on its way, began to read aloud the letter addressed to them both:

 _Dear Miss Evans and Miss Granger,_

 _I do hope you're both enjoying your Christmas Eve. It's a beautiful time of year to grow closer to those around us. I myself have just come from a magnificent feast where Professor Slughorn delighted one and all by juggling twelve peas with the tip of his wand. What a magical time of year._

 _Unfortunately, upon returning from the feast, I was informed by the Improper Use of Magic Office that there was a little too much Christmas spirit coming from 18 Glenwood Avenue in Cokeworth, where it was reported that both of you cast numerous spells while the Trace was still present._

 _I'd enjoy a chat with you both about the night's activities. Please come visit me in my office first thing upon your return to Hogwarts._

 _Cordially,_

 _Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

"Oh bloody hell," Hermione said under her breath, crumpling up the paper and casting an _incendio_ on it.

"Hermione!" Lily said, horrified.

"The Trace isn't that precise," she said, turning to Lily, "I know. My best friend cast a patronus once to save his cousin from a dementor, and the ministry could determine is _what_ spell he cast and _when_ and _who_ he was with, but not exactly _where._ Dumbledore already has more information than we do about what happened tonight, so now he's getting nosey."

"Maybe he's concerned about his two students needing to fight for their lives?" Lily suggested, crossing her arms.

"Two students who went and picked a fight with death eaters, you mean," Hermione said, snorting.

"Well we couldn't just let them burn Dorcas' house down!"

"No, but still. Not many people see a bunch of armed, evil psychopaths and think, 'Huh. I'm just gonna yet 'Hey! You lot!' at them. That'll do the trick.'"

Lily giggled, then sighed. "Thank you, by the way. Dueling in real life is nothing like in class. I'm glad you were there with me."

"You did so well," Hermione said, thinking back to the Department of Mysteries, "I almost died in my first real fight with death eaters. Spent a week in the hospital wing."

"Lily? Hermione? Is that you?" Petunia's groggy voice called from her second story window, "What are you doing out there?"

"Not coming home with penises all over our face," Hermione said before slapping a hand over her mouth.

"That wasn't my fault!" Petunia screeched out the window, suddenly very awake, making the two of them burst out in a fit of silent giggles.

It was at that moment, watching Lily laugh so soon after fighting a trio of death eaters very early on Christmas morning, that Hermione felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

Ginny, whose presence Hermione had imagined standing beside her since the duel, seemed to nod at this, and left the two girls smiling and laughing on the stoop.

* * *

A/N: You guys are the best! Thanks so much to those who shared their favorite parts on last chapter. I've changed a few things and am now planned out through chapter 24. Much more Lily, McGonagall, and of course Remus coming up. :)

As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, and otherwise showing your love.


	14. Chapter 14

"When you were a kid, did you ever think that if you swung hard enough you could swing all the way around the bar?" Lily asked, laughing and pumping her legs to make the old swingset tip dangerously.

"I never really liked being in the air," Hermione said, her nose crinkling. She was perfectly happy to sit cross-legged on the wood chips while gravity kept her safely on the ground. Plus, she hadn't slept well for the last few nights, and her stomach was queasy enough without the back and forth motion of swings.

The neighborhood park was quiet, with only the creaking of the metal equipment and a flock of pigeons fighting over a bag of crisps interrupted the silence. They'd gone to the park both because Lily's Mum was driving her spare, insisting that this should be the year Lily should drop out of Hogwarts and attend a 'normal' boarding school, and also because the snow had melted. But now the grey clouds were rolling back in and a light mist was settling over the block. Hermione scowled. The ugly brown jumper the Evans had let her borrow was all she had against the cold, but it was already growing damp.

When she looked up from picking at the wayward wool, she saw a particularly dark cloud rising up from over a nearby building. Her heart pounded.

"It's… it's…" Hermione swallowed as she scrambled up. Her wand got caught in the frizzy fibers of her jumper and her heart threatened to pound itself to death in her panic.

"Hey, it's ok," Lily said, somehow already off the swing and standing beside her, "It's just regular Muggle smoke from the factory."

"Oh. I knew that," Hermione said, breathing hard. Her hand trembled as she untangled her wand and gave it a few, free swishes.

"Look at me," Lily said, making eye contact and taking in exaggeratedly deep breaths. "You're safe right now."

Hermione knew Lily wanted her to copy the breathing thing. They'd been practicing this up in the attic when Hermione woke up from a nightmare in the too-early hours of the morning, a trick Lily had found in a muggle psychology textbook from the library. But right now, this wasn't the two of them alone in the dark. Hermione couldn't meet her eyes this time.

"I'm fine," she lied, sitting back down and pulling her knees tight against her chest. Lily didn't say anything, but she sat down in the wood chips beside her.

The girls were quiet for a minute, watching as the park grew dark around them and the banks of fog rolled in.

It was Hermione who abruptly broke the silence. "Lily? What do you know about Snape?"

Lily froze. "Snape?"

"I've been doing some research about why I'm here, you see. Specifically, why I'm here at Hogwarts and why in 1975. I was just wondering if you knew anything about his friends, his family, his-"

"You think Severus has something to do with your time travelling?"

Hermione straightened her spine, a little uncomfortable at how protective Lily was acting. "He stabbed us all in the back, near the end of the war. I think it fits."

"Well his dad is a muggle, so that doesn't make any sense. Severus couldn't join with You-Know-Who. You must be remembering wrong, or something…?" The last part came out as more of a question after Lily saw Hermione's lips forming a thin line.

"Severus Snape is responsible for nothing less than the end of wizarding kind, Lily. He's dangerous, or will be, and more cunning than you know. He did more damage to Time than almost anyone, except Vold- except You-Know-Who himself."

A crunching sound like twigs trampled by boots came from behind them and Hermione snapped to attention, arms and legs untangling as she whipped her wand around. Breathing heavily as her muscles tightened in her crouch, she strained to hear the noise again. There was nothing there of course, nothing but the whispering mist around the shrubbery.

"It was probably just one of the pigeons," Lily offered, reaching a hand out to help Hermione calm down.

Hermione rolled her shoulder to avoid the touch. She highly doubted a pigeon could sound like a boot, but she couldn't find anyone in the bushes. Just to be sure, she threw up a shield and a strong _muffilato_.

"What exactly do you mean by damage?" Lily asked once Hermione sat back down, though she was facing the bushes this time. "What could _Severus_ have done to make the whole world blow up?"

"It didn't blow up, Lily. Just a 'point of no return' kind of thing. And I'm sorry if this is hard to hear, but where I come from, Snape is a cold-blooded killer. He murdered Dumbledore himself, even."

They heard the snapping sound from the bushes behind them again and looked up. A dark edge of cloak was disappearing behind them into the mist.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

Through the thick bushes came the gangly, greasy body of Severus Snape himself, who crash landed on his side at Hermione's feet with his face frozen in a look of pure hatred.

A cold fury flooded through Hermione's veins; how _dare_ he eavesdrop on her and Lily! She circled his prone form, imagining what her 16 year old self would have done if she'd been the one to catch a snake in the bushes. Life in a jar didn't seem quite fitting now.

"What do you think you're doing?" she finally hissed into his ear, glaring at him even though he couldn't answer her until she partially lifted the spell.

" _Auditoro,_ " he answered, his face still frozen in its previous expression, though his voice was calm and controlled.

Hermione remembered then, and swallowed down the brief flash of guilt from her time in the library. This was totally different though. She shook her head, letting her wild curls shake off some of the dew they'd gathered. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," he said.

"How much is enough?" she pressed, standing now and towering over him. She had to be sure. Her mind was working overtime to come up with a plan, but she didn't want to jeopardize the future by spilling information if he hadn't already heard anything crucial.

"I think Dumbledore is an absolute buffoon, and I honestly wouldn't mind if someone took up the task to remove him permanently," he said, fighting the freezing spell enough to lift a single eyebrow in challenge.

"Damn it," Hermione said, turning her back to try and school her facial expressions.

When reading Minerva's book in the diner, she'd hoped that Snape had already begun the process of coming to the light. If she were wrong, and he was already a Death Eater, more than her life could be at stake. She still had no idea if Time could reset a second time should she fail this time around.

"Lily, pull up his sleeve," Hermione said quietly to the redhead.

"No!" Snape said, his voice cracking.

Lily said nothing and did as she was asked, though her face turned a bright shade of crimson. She used her forefinger and thumb to shift the fabric and reveal a mess of scars and bruises hidden there. They layered one over another to form a kaleidoscope of black, blue, purple, and red tissue that made the hair on Hermione's neck stand up.

"Satisfied?" Snape bit out, roughly. Too late, Hermione realized Harry must not have been the only one with an awful muggle family. She felt the first shiver of fear quake down her spine. She'd seen Snape angry before as a professor; how much angrier and out-of-control could he be as a teenager?

"Hermione?" Lily said, oblivious to her friend's fear as she gripped the ridges in Snape's sleeve. Horrible confusion had spread all over her face. "Didn't we see this robe earlier?"

"Yeah, he was the one hiding in the bushes" Hermione said, distracted.

"No, I mean isn't this what those… those Death Eaters were wearing the night at Dorcas' house?"

Hermione turned her attention away from the disfigured skin to the sleek, black cloak with its upturned collar. It was made of a fine material, much finer than the rest of the tattered clothes Hermione could see underneath. Almost like it wasn't really his.

"I'm taking your wand out of your pocket," Hermione narrated to Snape as she slipped his yew wand into her own sleeve, "and I'm going to remove the bind."

"Are you crazy?" Lily hissed.

"Shh," Hermione said, "Snape? I'm only unfreezing you because in order to perform an Unbreakable Vow, you need to be able to grasp my hand."

"A what?" Lily asked, her voice rising and echoing around the empty park.

"The wizarding equivalent of a contract," Snape answered, his eyes still staring, unmoving, at his childhood friend. "But Granger, what if I decline? What will you do then?"

"Lily was right," Hermione said, "this robe looks awfully familiar. Not to mention that right here," she lightly touched the back of his shoulder, "there's a rough patch covered in a light red dust, almost like someone was thrown against a brick wall when they were hit with a stupefy."

Lily shuddered, but still looked confused. "Why don't you just obliviate him if he heard something he shouldn't? You said you were good at those."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the Slytherin. "Because I want him to remember what I said. It's interesting that you're not asking questions, Snape, considering you also haven't accused me of being crazy or delusional. You must believe me on some level. So I want you to remember the man I knew, the one who killed Dumbledore and betrayed us all. You don't have to be that man."

Snape sighed, and without his body language, Hermione couldn't tell if it was one of irritation, acceptance, or dismissal. Nevertheless, he asked, "What are your terms?"

"That you never speak of what you've heard today to another living soul."

He seemed to think on that for a moment before countering, "I would like to include terms of my own."

Hermione scoffed. "You're in no position to bargain, wandless and petrified."

"Ah, but you don't know whether or not I know wandless magic. I could still make a break when you unbind me. And especially now that I know how precious this information is to you, I know _just_ the person to tell."

Lily took a step back as moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes. "You don't mean…"

"Could we talk about this later, Lily?"

"No we bloody well can't!" she hollered, a passing man and his dog looking surprised at her volume. Dropping her voice, she continued, "I trusted you when you said you didn't think any less of me for being muggleborn, and now you're throwing in with that lot?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. Gryffindors, always rushing in to save the day with wands drawn. Never thought about other ways to protect the people you..."

Lily held her breath, not quite believing what she was hearing. But he changed topic abruptly and let his voice drop an octave. "Let's just get this over with. My terms and yours both?"

Hermione paused for another moment, knowing the chances he was merely bluffing were tremendously high. Even _she_ hadn't been able to use wandless magic until she and Harry taught themselves a year ago, long nights on the run leaving little other occupation besides letting the locket bring them near insanity.

But this was the boy who invented spells and re-wrote a potions textbook on his own. If there was one thing she wasn't willing to do, it was underestimate Severus Snape.

" _Finite_ ," she said, taking a defensive position when he stood quicker and much more gracefully than she expected.

"If you wouldn't mind," Snape said, extending his right hand, "I don't have all day."

"Of course. Lily? Will you act as the bonder?"

Lily frowned. "I'm still underage, Hermione. I don't feel like getting another letter. But you've been using magic all afternoon and Dumbledore doesn't seem to care. Can't you do it?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment. "I've never read about an Unbreakable Vow made without a third person to act as bonder. I suppose I could try and-"

"Have Lily do it," Snape said, looking at the redhead in question with a tense expression.

"What?"

"Lily. I'll make the Vow to her. I'm less likely to try and trick her, anyways. I can't stand you, Granger, and I admit I already had thought of a few work-arounds if I bound myself to you, but I'll be fair to Lily."

"I'm not touching you, Snape," Lily said, and she seemed to grow taller as she took a step forward, "You have lost that privilege."

"Don't be so dramatic," he sighed, and pulled a scrap of paper from the deep pockets in his robe, "Read this instead, then. The spell will temporarily lift your Trace, long enough to act as bonder without anyone being the wiser."

"So this is how you can go around and set other people's houses on fire?" Hermione muttered as she firmly grasped Snape's forearm.

Snape chose to say nothing against the jab, but he gripped her arm like a vice. "Can we get on with this?"

Lily nodded, and whispered the Trace-cancelling spell under her breath. As soon as she had, Snape snatched the scrap of paper out of her hands and shoved it away. Lily glared at him, but placed her wand over the pair.

"Do you, Severus Snape, vow to keep the information you learned today a secret, and never reveal it in any way to another person or creature, living or dead?" Hermione said, her eyes boring into his.

Snape scowled at her change in language, but agreed. "I so vow."

A thin strand of gold light entwined itself around the two clasped hands.

"And do you, Hermione Granger, vow to keep secret the…" he blanched but continued, "the knowledge of my scars and the implications therein, and never mention or imply that knowledge to anyone?"

"I so vow."

The second strand of gold light twisted around them in the opposite direction, and for a moment their hands glowed brightly before the bands disappeared.

"Lily? Always a pleasure," Snape said immediately, straightening up and drawing the cloak tightly around him. He turned to go, but only made it a few steps before looking over his shoulder. "Granger?"

Hermione looked up from the hand she'd continued to stare at, and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't think this changes anything," before facing forward again and letting his cloak billow and flap behind him.

"Dramatic git," Hermione huffed, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling his comment left her with. "C'mon, Lily. Let's get out of here."

On the walk home through the densely-packed muggle neighborhood, Hermione noticed a dark shape coming towards them through the dark, grey mist above. At first she thought the lack of sleep was making her hallucinate, but then, as it got closer, she made out the wings and moon-face of a common Post owl. It hooted softly before dropping a cream colored envelope into Lily's hands. She immediately began to panic, ripping the letter out.

"He's going to expel me this time, I just know it," she rambled to herself, not even reading the address on the front, "Mum's going to throw a celebration party and I'm going to have to wear a plaid jumper and an Oxford and-"

Hermione's eyes were drawn to the familiar signature at the bottom. Her cheeks reddened as she pointed it out to her flailing friend. "Lily, look. It's from Remus."

* * *

A/N: This chapter fought me tooth and nail. I sat down to write it at least a dozen times, and each time felt like flipping my laptop in frustration. But here's where I finally got to. Hope you like it.

Also, I'm trying my hand at cliffhangers. After starting Shayalonnie's _Reclamation of Black Magic,_ I remembered how much I liked reading them, so I decided to write them, too. (Also, are you reading that? You need to drop whatever fic you were going to read next and open that one. Holy. Flying. Crap.)

A dozen freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies to all you lovely reviewers, favoriters, and followers. You're the best.


	15. Chapter 15

The rest of the Christmas holiday was a flurry of feathers. Owls flew back and forth between the Lupin and Evans residence so fast that Mrs. Evans threatened to cook the next one she saw flitting up to the attic bedroom. Lily loved it, maybe even more than Hermione herself. She giggled and sighed and asked for all the juicy details. There weren't any though; Remus spent most of his letters repeating how sorry he was.

" _I know you've forgiven me,"_ he wrote once, " _but you are the first werecreature I've really known and I_ ran _from you. How many times have I suffered the same treatment from others? You shouldn't be so quick to forgive me, Hermione, for I know what kind of hole rejection leaves in a heart."_

His letters reminded Hermione of the time back in 1997 when he found out he was going to be a father. He said he regretted ever marrying Tonks, tortured by the guilt that he'd made her and their unborn child an outcast. "You don't know how most of the Wizarding world sees creatures like me!" she remembered him roaring, then kicking his chair in fury over his supposed mistakes.

This younger Remus was so like his older self in that way. He buried himself in self-hatred, commenting on his unworthiness and old mistakes every letter. But while the Professor sought to cauterize his relationships and make a clean break, _this_ Remus kept writing her.

" _If I hadn't woken up beside you in the hospital wing, I would never believe you were anything other than light. How can you exist? I must have read every book published on the nature of dark creatures, but you break all the molds."_

Hermione itched to research, to refute his claims. Since she was still with Lily, though, she didn't want to arouse suspicions. All she could manage was a quote from an obscure Italian textbook on werewolves Professor Lupin lent her at some point during fourth year. Of all the texts he'd let her borrow, it contained the only passage with a kind word to say about his species. She'd never forgotten it.

' _Wizards call creatures 'dark' only when they themselves live lives of fear and isolation.' -Mannaro of Sicily._

 _I'm no more dark than you are, Remus._

He hadn't responded for a full day after that letter. When his silence ended, he'd changed the topic completely, simply inquiring after her health and mentioning that he missed her. At the bottom was a quotation of his own:

" _But if the while I think on thee, dear friend / All losses are restor'd and sorrows ends." (1)_

They'd continued back and forth on these more pleasant terms for the last week of the holiday, with Lily seeing 'romantic overtures' behind every phrase and drawing. Hermione could only roll her eyes and tell Lily she was reading into things that weren't really there, until the last night before their return to Hogwarts.

Just before she was heading to bed, a small, tawny owl pecked at the attic's window. In its talons, it clutched a letter written in a sloppy hand with brown liquid staining the edges. It was unsigned, but the contents gave the author away.

" _And the moon, whether prudish or complaisant_

 _Has fled to her bower, well knowing I want:_

 _No light in the dusk, no torch in the gloom,_

 _But my Hermione's eyes, and her lips pulp'd with bloom." (2)_

Lily had a field day with that. It took hours to calm her down, though Hermione's own heart would start racing each time she remembered the scrap of poetry.

Just after they'd both finally fallen asleep, they were awoken in the early hours of the morning by a second owl, though this one was molting and cranky. Eagerly, Lily pulled her torch out from under her bed and they read it together.

 _Never again will I let Sirius ply me with firewisky. Have you tried the stuff? It makes you mental._

 _I hope I didn't embarrass you with my last owl. I don't really remember what I said, but I remember what I was feeling, and I can't imagine I was all that proper with my words. Forgive me._

 _Yrs, Remus_

 _P.S. Don't forgive me if you didn't mind._

Lily fell backwards onto the bed and sighed dramatically, claiming that she could die happily since it was now obvious two of her best friends were going to live happily ever after. She might have started preparing her maid-of-honor speech if she hadn't immediately fallen asleep.

Hermione, however, was still awake when the sun rose, tracing his signature over and over.

* * *

On the Hogwarts Express, Hermione hadn't been able to find that familiar head of sandy blond hair, so she and Lily had grabbed a compartment with the other fifth year girls in Gryffindor (minus Mary, who said that train rides made her nervous and so she would floo into school a few hours later). They found Alice hugging Dorcas, who was curled up in a ball against the window, still shaken by the attack on her family's home. She was amazed when Lily immediately described their version of events, and how they'd saved the house in the end.

"I had no idea! Lily, I'm so grateful I could kiss you!" she said, squeezing Lily's cheeks together.

"You kiss girls?" a confused, squeaky voice said from the door, causing all five heads to whip around.

"In your dreams, Peter,," Marlene said, laughing and chucking a handful of popcorn at the wizard. "What do you want?"

"Oh," he said, his cheeks glowing bright red, "This- this is for Hermione." He pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket.

A collection of _ooohs_ sounded from the four other girls as Hermione scanned her eyes over the note. Peter remained in the doorway, shuffling from one foot to the next.

 _I'm working on the smell thing. I promise. I've got Sirius helping me test a few different things to block canine senses, but nothing's worked thusfar. I'm sorry I wasn't able to say hello and help you with your bag. I can only punch myself in the nose so many times before people start asking questions. Until I can master this small character flaw, I'll have to subsist on the sight of your face from afar and the sound of your laughter._

 _Yrs, Remus._

 _P.S. Sorry I sent Peter. James dared me. I win a galleon and get to turn his hair green if he said anything embarrassing to any of you ladies. He's expecting a return note, by the way._

 _P.S.S. Do you know the poet?_

 _Sweet, sweet is the greeting of eyes,_

 _And sweet is the voice in its greeting,_

 _When adieus have grown old and goodbyes_

 _Fade away where old Time is retreating. (3)_

Hermione smirked and scribbled a few lines, then sent Peter back to receive his new hairdo. When she looked up, all pairs of eyebrows were waggling at her.

"Spill, Granger," Marlene said with an evil grin as she cast a locking charm on the door. "We're not letting you out until we know everything."

* * *

Soon after they finished supper in the Great Hall, Hermione and Lily waved goodbye to their friends and waited for their appointment with Professor Dumbledore.

"It is a delight to finally meet you, Miss Granger," the headmaster said, coming around his large study desk to offer his hand. "I'm deeply sorry that my duties have prevented me from doing so formally until this point, but rest assured I have been keeping up on your progress. It is most impressive."

Of course Dumbledore would start with flattery, Hermione scowled.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, we've got a perfectly reasonable explanation for why we were using magic outside of school over our holiday break." Lily said, twisting her robes through her fingers like she'd been doing for the past twenty minutes outside Dumbledore's office while Hermione begged her to 'let me handle this.'

"Please sit down, both of you," he said, summoning two matching red seats over from the side of the room. "And do tell me. It sounds like you had an adventure this Christmas Eve."

"First, Professor, could you tell us what you already learned from the Trace? We wouldn't want to bore you with hearing things you already know." Hermione said, taking her seat stiffly with her shoulders pulled back.

Professor Dumbledore's twinkling eyes took her in and misread her posture completely. "My dear, there's no need to be nervous. I assure you, you're not in trouble. Please, have a lemon drop and make yourself comfortable. There's nothing I like better than a good story. How about from the beginning?"

"We were at a diner near my house," Lily said, "I didn't want to spend time with my sister's horrible boyfriend, so we were studying away from home."

"Right," Hermione agreed, "And there were these kids who looked like they were getting into mischief at Dorca's home. And since it was past 11:30 and they had gone away to France for the summer because Dorcas' father is worried about Death Eaters and-"

"So we fought them and then the aurors came," Lily finished, lamely.

"Ah, so you two were defending your friend's home?" he asked, "What a noble thing to do. But why bother calling the aurors if it was simply kids getting into mischief?"

"Well isn't that what we're supposed to do in the wizarding world?" Hermione asked, using her tried-and-true 'I'm an idiot Muggleborn' card, "I mean, the kids were using wands themselves, so I thought calling the muggle police would be a bad idea."

"Kids, you say?" Dumbledore murmured as he flipped a page on his desk, looking disinterested. "It's only strange since you, Lily, were the only one reported to me by the Ministry of Magic for use of underage magic that night."

Hermione felt a bead of sweat slide down her spine and her heart rate picked up.

"Now girls, I want to emphasize that you're not in trouble for using magic in defense of your friend. I am concerned, however, about whatever you feel the need to lie to me about."

Lily looked at Hermione and raised her eyebrows, waiting.

"Professor, Lily and I, if we're really not in trouble, would prefer to keep that information to ourselves. And I would like to know why I've been called in at all, since I'm not under the Trace anymore and can use magic freely."

Professor Dumbledore smiled a warm smile. "As long as neither one of you is hiding anything with evil intent, and rather doing so for the greater good, I don't see why I can't let you children have your secrets, if that is your wish."

"It is," Hermione said, speaking for both of them.

"Then you're free to go," he said, nodding. "Lily? I would ask that in the future until the trace is removed, you simply call for the aurors first if you deem the situation necessary."

"Of course, Professor," she said.

Hermione leaped out of her chair. She wanted to sprint all the way to the showers and scrub off the icky feeling his office gave her.

"Oh, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore said before she could reach the door, "I'm sorry, at my age, my mind tends to slip now and then. I've forgotten I had something to speak with you about. If you wouldn't mind staying behind for a moment longer?"

Damn.

Lily gave her a little wave. "I'll wait for you outside, then," she said before closing the door softly behind her. Hermione turned to face the headmaster, refusing to take a seat a second time.

"Miss Granger, Professor McGonagall has told me many things about you," he began, coming from around the side of his desk to stroll around the spacious back of his office. He strode past one of the bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling, pulling off a book absent-mindedly.

Hermione remained silent, allowing Dumbledore to reveal what he knew first. She knew Minerva wouldn't spill any of her real secrets, but he always seemed to know more than he was told.

"Of all the things she's mentioned, there's one I can clearly verify from your Christmas Eve duel. You are very gifted in defense against the dark arts. Perhaps more than the average seventeen year old, no?"

Hermione's mind buzzed with half-formed questions and anxieties until she felt petrified, unable to answer or move. If he'd discovered the truth about her, she was doomed.

"Of course, I wouldn't fault you if you'd dabbled in the dark magics," Dumbledore continued, "The temptation can sometimes be too great for those who've dealt with tragedy on a scale like you have. I don't think I've mentioned, by the way, how terribly sorry I am about the loss of your family. It's a horror one never quite gets over."

Professor Dumbledore turned around to face his bookshelves, and Hermione used the moment to erase all trace of her surprise. Dumbledore thought she was dealing in dark magic? Perhaps her secret was safe after all.

Hermione finally tested her voice. "I've never used dark magic, Professor,"

"I'm glad to hear it," he responded, turning to face her, smiling once again. "Because now I feel confident that you'd make an excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Sir?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

"You may have heard the other students talking about how our dear Professor Steeley was rushed to St. Mungo's over the holidays. It's nothing to worry about, but the healers inform me she'll be unable to teach for the next month. I could cover a few of her classes, but with the Wizengamot in session, I'm really unable to give the students the care and attention they need."

"And you think I could provide that?"

"For a week or two, yes. Certainly. Perhaps you could think of it as an apprenticeship, since you'll be out in the wide world of work in a few months. Has Professor McGonagall spoken with you about your career options?"

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip. "I'm not really sure I'm cut out to be a professor, Professor. And I've never spoken with Professor McGonagall about it directly, but I've always thought a career in the Ministry of Magic would best suit me."

"The Ministry would be worthy work for a witch of your caliber," Professor Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "Another way you could think of this position, then, is a way to set aside some money for the future. I'm given to understand you have no family vault to fall back on, should hard times arise. Is that so?"

Hermione's face flushed bright red. She'd come to terms with poverty soon after she obliviated her muggle parents and lost her connection to the two dentists she'd loved and relied on. Being switched to a different time hadn't changed that fact. Slowly, Hermione bowed her head and nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he sounded like he meant it. Hermione hated him for that.

She clenched her teeth, then took a deep breath. "I don't know how to teach a class, Professor. But I'll do my best if Professor Steeley left her notes and plans for me to look over."

"Excellent!" he clapped his hands together. "I have them just here. I know you'll do splendidly."

"I'll require one other thing though, Professor."

If Dumbledore was surprised that the petite, bushy-haired girl was making demands on his charity, he didn't show it. He took a seat behind his desk and folded his hands in front of him. "And what would that be?"

"Access to the professor's potions storage."

It was something that came to her out of the blue. She knew she couldn't keep stealing from Professor Slughorn each month and then obliviating him, but she'd be damned if she let Remus go another month of his life without Wolfsbane.

"If you've become friends with Mr. Belby, I'll have to say no, my dear."

"Oh no, I don't use drugs! It's just something my mother- I mean my old _tutor_ used to have me brew."

Hermione was a terrible liar, and now Dumbledore had seen it twice. But somehow his eyes still had the indulgent twinkle of a grandfather. "Again, I'll say as long as you're not keeping secrets for evil but instead for good, I'm agreeable to this addition to your temporary contract. You understand that once your services are no longer needed and Professor Steeley is returned from St. Mungo's, you'll be expected to pay for your potions ingredients again?"

"Of course, Professor," she said. She accepted the plain folder Dumbledore handed over, thick with lesson plans and notes in a neat, feminine script.

"Your first class is next Monday. I've cancelled Defense Against the Dark Arts classes for this week to give you a chance to I read up. Feel free to ask myself or Professor McGonagall for advice if you find yourself in need of it. Do remember, however," he said, and now he focused on her intently, "that I will be paying closer attention now that you're one of my staff."

Hermione faltered. "I… I understand, Professor."

"Splendid!" he said, in an instant returning to the jolly elderly man she'd met as a first year. "Take a lemon drop on your way out!"

* * *

(1) Sonnet 30 by William Shakespeare

(2) "Hush, hush! tread softly" by John Keats

(3) "You Say you love; but with a voice" by John Keats

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I've got to thank VioletBuckBeak and azuthlu for helping me with some of the points in this chapter and further back. I'll be backtracking and editing a few little things today, but it's nothing that changes the whole plot or anything, so you won't have to go back and read from the beginning.

Also, did any of you take the patronus test on Pottermore? I got a Scottish Deerhound, which is apparently the dog they use to play Sirius' animagus form in the movies. How cool is that?

Love to you guys, always. Let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	16. Chapter 16

The library after curfew was chilly.

Hermione was tucked into her favorite back corner with a lumpy, knitted hat and a warming charm every half hour, but the cold still managed to seep into her bones. She should have turned in hours ago, but she hadn't finished reading Lord Abram's textbook on Time or reviewing Professor Steeley's lesson plans. She taught her first class in two days, but she also remembered how disappointed Minerva sounded in her last owl. She couldn't ignore either.

A few days ago, exhausted from trying to do both, she pulled out the time turner she'd hidden at the bottom of her trunk and stared at it. It would be so easy to give it a quick flip and have an extra hour or two to catch up.

She sighed and pulled her hat back over her hair. She refused to repeat her third year. She couldn't spend her days constantly anxious about paradoxing herself out of existence, not again. So what if her eating and sleeping habits looked more like a night shift healer at St. Mungo's? She was accomplishing necessary tasks, even if it meant losing a little sleep. She yawned.

Ok, she was losing a lot of sleep. That's why she thought she was hallucinating when, after finally reaching the last page in Lord Abram's book, the book started talking to her.

 _Thank you for your Time. Should you wish to contact the author directly, you may visit their portrait in the Hall of Portraits at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and-_

"Whatcha got there, Hermione?" a male voice whispered in her ear.

Hermione screamed and slammed the book shut.

Four familiar voices snickered, and their heads popping up one by one out of the thin air, illuminated by the low lamplight. She groaned looking at the giddiness on their faces, and she knew they'd be teasing her about that scream for even longer than her throat would feel sore. What kind of werecat got so absorbed in a book that she didn't smell four teenaged boys coming?

"What I've got is none of your business, Sirius Black," she snapped.

"Well, Professor," he mocked, "I think someone's been cooped up in the quiet library too long. Wouldn't you say, Wormtail?"

"Oh yes, Padfoot," Peter agreed, "I think someone was just asking to be sneaked up on."

"It's snuck up, dumb arse," James said, a disembodied hand joining the heads to playfully cuff Peter on the ear. "Speak correctly in front of the professor."

"Will you guys keep it down?" Hermione hissed, looking around with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Someone's going to hear you."

"Pish posh," Sirius scoffed, "do you even know what time it is?"

"Three in the morning," Remus informed her before she could check, his fingers pinching his nose tight, "As prefect, I could take away house points for your being out past curfew."

Hermione looked up, wide-eyed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh it'd be easy," he said, "The boys run to the dorm ahead of me, I wait in the common room for you, and whenever you finally decide to come up and get some sleep, I gotcha!"

"I thought prefect duties were mostly babysitting firsties and using plunging spells on the prefects toilets," James said, "Never heard it include waiting up for professors in the common room."

"Oh shove off, Prongs," Remus said, hip checking James and sending the four boys tumbling to the ground.

"Such children," Hermione said, shaking her head and shouldering her bag. "But you can't take house points away from me, Mr. Lupin. For one thing, I was already on my way to the tower before you showed up. For another, as temporary professor, I outrank you."

"Ooooooo," the three marauders chorused, watching Remus awkwardly pull down on his jumper and stand a bit taller.

"Well then, Professor Granger, are you going to turn in three delinquent students out past curfew?"

Hermione squinted in the semi-darkness, debating whether or not she wanted to ask the obvious question, but Peter beat her to it. "But there's four of us, Moony."

Remus smiled so widely, some of the scars on his face completely disappeared. "There are three delinquent students, my dear Wormtail. And one perfectly well-behaved prefect."

The three 'delinquent' Maruaders began to protest loudly, just at the same time Hermione heard a faint set of footsteps walking in their direction.

"Shh!" She and Remus said at the same time. Everyone froze.

"Under the cloak, quick!" James said, holding it up.

"What, all five of us?" Sirius whisper-shouted, "Are you mental? Even with only four our feet have been sticking out this year."

"Hermione's a professor now, she'll be fine without the cloak," Peter said, already ducking underneath James' outstretched arm.

Hermione strained to listen closer to the midnight stroller, but it was Remus who pulled out the map to identify him. "Dumbledore. He's probably sleepwalking again."

Hermione sniffed. "I'll be fine on my own. It was lesson planning that kept me up so late, anyways. If he asks I can tell him just that."

"It was a lesson planning book talking to you?" James asked, curious.

"Exactly," Hermione said, "Now you boys run along under your cloak. I'll meet you back at the tower."

Chin held high, Hermione marched through the library and right past the headmaster of Hogwarts as the four fifth years snuck around his other side.

"Save. Must. Please! Noo…." Dumbledore muttered to himself as he zigzagged his way past her, his gaze focused down on his shoes.

Hermione shuddered. She thought she had nightmares. What must the dreams of a century-old wizard like Dumbledore be like?

Once he had disappeared around the corner still muttering, Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding. The boys, too, relaxed without the Headmaster around, and she watched four pairs of trainers clumsily sprint down the hallway. As their steps grew fainter, she realized she never got an answer to her original question. Why had the boys been in the library in the first place?

* * *

Days later, Hermione sat on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, definitely not looking at the scars on her bare legs from the last two moons. She was also definitely not thinking about how many more scars she might have by the time morning came.

Both she and Remus had asked, _begged_ Dumbledore to find an alternative safe house for one of them so they wouldn't both be locked in here, but he said his hands were tied, that it would be safest to keep them both on the grounds of Hogwarts. Apparently, the Great Albus Dumbledore couldn't make another house, in the whole world, safe enough to house a werewolf or werecat for a night.

Minerva seethed when Hermione told her. She'd made sure to lock and soundproof the door, then let fly a colorful burst of language in an even thicker than usual Scottish accent. Hermione never thought she'd hear Professor Minerva McGonagall call anyone's intelligence, parentage, and- er- size into question so effortlessly. Minerva couldn't go against Dumbledore once he made up his mind like this, but she swore she'd help as best she could.

She didn't know how to stop Remus from seeing or smelling the werecat, but she'd shown them a quick and fairly easy spell that would temporarily keep them from physically touching each other. It wouldn't last the whole night, but even a few hours of relief might make a difference come morning.

Hermione could currently see the shimmering barrier between the two halves of the Shack from her corner. On the other side, Remus was pacing up and down, absently picking off dried blood from where he'd punched himself in the nose earlier.

"I don't think it'll work once we've transformed," he told her on the cold walk down to the Whomping Willow, "but it'll last until then."

"You and Sirius haven't had any luck, then?"

He shook his head. "Sirius is very good at transfiguration spells, human transfiguration especially. But even he can't figure out how to stop specific olfactory inputs. We've managed to stop my sense of smell entirely for an hour, but that's no good."

"I suppose that would be pretty uncomfortable," Hermione said.

"It would be more like walking around blind, for me. I'm so used to smelling my way around," he said, then kicked a boulder they were passing. "Merlin. I sound like an animal."

Hermione was too tired to talk him out of his pity that night, so they continued in silence.

Now the moon was rising. She could hear Remus on the other side, panting and moaning already. She, on the other hand, was bouncing on the balls of her feet with the unnatural energy thrumming through her veins. Once the first bones started popping in her spine, the cat within let out a snarl, and Hermione lost herself.

* * *

When she woke up, it was in the middle of the Shack with a blanket thrown over her and a loud argument pounding through her head.

"You're going to Pomfrey with Hermione and I RIGHT NOW and-"

"We're not going anywhere mate, and if you think-"

"I did not spend a whole month with a mushy leaf under my tongue to have you turn me in and-"

"Please, please keep it down?" Hermione moaned quietly, curling in on herself only to have the new, thin skin on her spine split again with the motion.

"Oh Hermione," Remus said, rushing over and gently brushing the hair out of her face. "How are you? I'm so sorry, the guys were just leaving."

"We bloody well weren't," Sirius said, grabbing the first aid bag from James. "Have some dittany, kitten."

Hermione scowled at the nickname as Remus took the bottle. "Where's Peter?" she asked.

"Oh, McGonagall caught us sneaking out of the castle last night. It was his turn to take the blame," James said, shrugging.

Remus sprinkled drops of dittany on her cuts and she sighed as they took effect. From what she could see, Remus really didn't need much for himself. There was a superficial floorburn on his chest and what looked like a hoofprint on his calf, but they weren't bad. The wolfsbane must have kept him in control of his mind yet again.

"Wait, what's this scar, Remus?" she asked, touching what looked like a jagged 'X' on his bicep, but with an extra long line through the middle. It was different from other marks she'd seen on either his or her body post-moon. The rest of their scrapes, scratches, and bites looked inflamed and sometimes still bleeding when the sun rose. This triple-crossed scar looked weeks old, like scabs had already formed and fallen.

"You don't remember anything?" Sirius asked, sitting down next to her.

"I've told you a million times, Padfoot," Remus sighed, tugging on his sandy hair, "we can never remember."

"I know, I know, but this felt different. Like something you'd remember even if you weren't you."

"Well, there was something different, but-" Remus started, then hissed. Hermione looked down to where he was rubbing his forearm, and she felt guilty about the unbreakable vow from last month. She'd need to tell James and Sirius about the wolfsbane herself, apparently.

"Something important happened?" Hermione asked, changing the subject, "And that's why you have that scar?"

"Not just me," Remus said pointedly, looking at the other two occupants of the shack.

James was pulling a shirt over an identically-shaped scar of his own, stretched all the way across his lower back. Beside her, she could see Sirius scratching the same scar just under his right ear. Curious, she searched her skin to see if she had one of her own and gave a squeak of surprise when she found it.

James grimaced, "Sorry, Hermione. It bled for so long, we thought you might pass out."

"It takes a lot to make a werecat pass out, I think," she murmured, lightly tracing the three intersecting lines just above her heart. "But even so, they shouldn't be healing so fast, should they?"

"I've got no idea," Remus said, pulling her fingers away from the scar and interlacing them with his own.

"Ok, if neither of you can remember what happened last night, let Sirius and I tell you," James said, "unless you need to get to Madam Pomfrey's right now?"

"I'll be alright," Hermione said, "she'll just tell me to sleep and give me a blood replenishing potion anyways."

"If you say so," James said, recasting the warming charm on the room and settling down. "So we came in, expecting this epic brawling melee."

"I was so ready, Moony," Sirius interrupted, smacking his fist into his palm, "I was gonna come at you from the right, and Prongs was gonna cage you in on the left, and we would have a story to tell the grandkids- the time we tackled a werewolf!"

"But you are an arse, Remus Lupin. Instead of a battle worthy of our hypothetical future glory, you just kinda… sniffed us and sat down."

Hermione and Remus locked eyes. That was the wolfsbane, doing its job. Thank Merlin, because she had no doubt that as a fully crazed werewolf, Remus would have handily won the battle against the big dog and the oversized deer.

"Right," James continued, "but Hermione over there was going mental."

"I thought I was going to die," Sirius said, a fake solemn look on his face.

"We let you have your fit, hissing and swiping at everything. You pissed just about everywhere on that half of the Shack, but you cooled down after an hour or so. That's when the bloody meowing started."

"I did not!" Hermione said, her face heating up.

"You did! It was such a racket, too, I think I tried to claw Padfoot's ear off for him, isn't that right?"

Sirius pointed to his eerily healed scar and laughed. "First blood of the night. That's when the barrier disappeared and you jumped us."

"I don't remember exactly when it happened," James said, "but at some point we were all rolling around on the ground, mostly playing, but I think we were all bleeding by then, and then it's like everything froze."

"Yeah," Sirius said, his face scrunching up in confusion, "I don't get it. I couldn't move for a few minutes, and my neck really hurt. And then when the sun came up, we all had matching tattoos!"

"Okay, first, you are not allowed to tell anyone that," Hermione threatened.

"Peter is going to flip," James said, "We should have waited for him."

"It's not like we planned this," Remus said, "Still don't know what it is, frankly. But this did feel funny when I woke up." Remus traced the mark on his bicep and then repeated the motion on Hermione's own scar.

It was then Hermione finally noticed.

"You've been… touching me," she said, dumbfounded.

"I'm just amazed. They're really identical, even down to the color of the scar tissue."

"No, Remus. I mean you've been _touching_ me. You haven't touched me in two months. And hold on. You're not getting sick, right? Can you smell me?"

Remus' eyes grew wide. Immediately, he pressed his nose into her mess of curly hair and inhaled deeply. Hermione closed her eyes, lost in the sensation. When he pulled back to properly look at her, he was so close she could see the tiny flecks of gold in his irises. He was grinning. "You smell like black raspberries. My mum had black raspberry bushes when I was little."

"Gross," Sirius said, standing up and dusting himself off, "C'mon, Prongsie. Let's get these two to the hospital wing so they can make googly eyes at each other in peace. No sense trying to solve mysteries when they're all mushy like this."

"I am not being mushy!" Remus said.

"Ok, ok, no need to have pups about it," Sirius said, smirking.

The walk back to the castle went slowly. Remus never let Hermione get more than an inch out of his reach, claiming he needed to 'support her.' More like he needed to let his hands wander up and down her arms, but she wasn't complaining.

When they were almost at the doors of the hospital wing, Remus pulled her back so the other two were out of hearing range. He curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear and drew close, his breath tickling her skin.

"Whatever happened last night, I can't explain it. But it was awesome."

And then, quicker than she could react to, Remus pecked her on the cheek and rushed after his fellow Marauders.

* * *

A/N: Oh my goodness. Thank you, thank you, thank you guys for all the support last chapter. You should see all the strange dances I do when I read your comments and reviews. I also really appreciate some of the ideas and questions you've come up with.

I'd like to thank my lovely roommate for tracking down both my tumblrs, then my fanfiction account, then reading this story, and _now_ being an alpha reader. You're the best. :)

Credit also goes to LadyHexane for a slew of dog-related jokes and puns for Sirius to use on Remus, the first of which I snagged for this chapter. (If anyone else has some, please feel free to send them along. I LOVE PUNS!)


	17. Chapter 17

Peter didn't talk to the guys for three days after the moon, but when he started back up he had plenty to say.

"How could you guys?" he wailed into his pudding at dinner, "Don't you like me anymore?"

Sirius and Remus tried explaining that they hadn't done anything intentionally. They still weren't even sure what they did, exactly, only that they now had matching tattoos, as Sirius insisted on calling them. Peter was not appeased.

James felt worst than any of them. Hermione watched him try to make it up to Peter by doing his potions homework, going down to the kitchens for snacks, and even setting him up with a girl from Hufflepuff. It was after that, when he came to breakfast late from a night up late doing double homework that Sirius put a stop to the groveling.

"We might have left you out by accident, mate, but now you're being a arse on purpose. For Merlin's sake, Wormtail, give it a rest!"

Peter looked down, his face already turning red. Hermione couldn't bring herself to feel bad for him, but she did feel a twist in her stomach when he left the Great Hall with an ominous look on his face.

Hermione didn't want to deal with Peter, though. If all her plans went through and she got to Snape before he took the dark mark, or at least before he sold out James and Lily and Harry, she wouldn't even need to make sure Peter stayed on the right side. In fact, she thought bitterly to herself, it might even be easier if he switched to the losing side, that way the other three boys could see him for the cowardly traitor he was all along.

It was turning Snape that would be the difficult part.

A few days later, all thoughts of Snape flew from her mind when

"Hey Hermione," Remus said, sitting down next to her.

"Hi," she said, easily putting all thoughts of Snape out of mind. "How are your OWL revisions going?"

"That's just what I came to ask you about, actually. Since you got your above outstanding on Defense Against the Dark Arts, and you're the professor now, I wondered if you could help me? There are a few spells I've been struggling with."

Hermione was surprised. She hadn't pinned Remus as the type to ask for help, especially on subjects he prided himself in. She certainly wasn't going to complain about spending more time with him, though. Now that they could stand to be in the same room, it was difficult for their friends to find a time when they weren't. "Sure. I can meet you in the defense room after dinner. I was going back there to grade a few first year essays, anyways."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother you while you're marking. Why don't you just come back to the common room when you're done? It'll be pretty empty by then."

"Can't say no to that," she said, smiling.

She tried to grade the papers in record time, but most first-years had an inability to write a complete line without smudging or blotting the ink. In rushing to Gryffindor tower, she got stuck on a moving staircase and paused to glance at the hundreds of portraits. Which one was Lord Abrams? She knew he wrote in the eighteenth century, so she felt comfortable ruling out anything that looked either too Rennaisance or too modern. There was one of a surprisingly attractive man with curly black hair who kept taking out his pocket watch. That could be a clever reference. There was also another man, old and withered, with a grim reaper hovering over his shoulder, and a third with a man watching the seasons all pass in sequence behind him. Hermione figured a man like Lord Abrams would wish to have a lot of symbolism in his official portrait. When the stairs finally clicked into the correct place, she made a mental note of where those three were to check in with later.

When Hermione entered through the Fat Lady's portrait, she was surprised to see only Peter in the common room.

"Hullo, Hermione," he said, lifting his nose from his book, "Remus just ran up to our room to grab something. He'll be right back."

Hermione settled into her favorite couch, which just happened to be the seat farthest away from Peter without sitting on the staircase. Still not sure of what in particular Remus needed help with, she pulled out the fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and began absently flipping through the table of contents. Professor Steeley had chosen interesting textbooks, for sure. The fifth year book contained spells, jinxes, and creatures, as it should, but it also devoted a substantial amount of time to protecting yourself in what many pureblood students were calling "the muggle way." There were hand-to-hand combat suggestions alongside easy spells for wandless magic, should you lose your wand in a fight. There was also a lot of espionage tricks, both muggle and magic, for getting a leg-up on your opponent before a duel. Perhaps Remus, knowing she was Muggleborn, wanted some help on the less magical portions of the class.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Remus said, coming down the stairs three at a time as he nearly fell into the common room.

Hermione waved his apology away. "What did you need help on?"

"Here, have a seat. You want some hot chocolate? Flopsy made it since she knew we'd be up late studying."

"We're going to be up late?" Hermione asked while taking a sip of the rich, dark liquid, but then paused. She squinted at the mug. "Are there bubbles in this?"

"That's how Flopsy always makes it. She says carbonation helps keep you awake even longer than pepper-up potion."

Hermione shrugged and drank the hot chocolate. "So, you guys were learning about _petrificus totalus_ before the holidays. Is that what you needed help on? You seemed to understand it from what I heard, but-" Hermione interrupted herself with an enormous belch that rumbled up from her stomach and tasted like the pumpkin pie from dinner.

Her face was on fire. "I- I'm so sorry, Remus. I've never-"

"It's ok," he said, unperturbed, and got right back on topic. "It wasn't the body-bind curse. I actually heard a spell recently that I didn't understand the meaning of. Well, not so much heard as saw written down. I wondered if you knew what it was?"

He handed her a piece of paper which she immediately snatched away. Harry had taught her all too well in sixth year to be wary of mysterious spells casually written down for anyone to find. When she read it, though, she was relieved. "This one isn't dangerous. It's pronounced _levicorpus_."

Immediately, Hermione felt herself lifting off the ground. She pinwheeled her arms around, searching for anything to grab onto, but to no avail. " _Libracorpus_!" she yelled, pointing her wand at her ankles, but it didn't help. She continued to rise higher and higher, and felt like she was slowly losing all sense of her weight. "Remus! Help me!"

Remus, who she now saw was fighting to keep from laughing, pointed his wand at her and whispered, " _Langlock._ "

Hermione knew she'd heard Harry practicing the counter-curse to that spell at some point, but it wasn't coming to her. So now, completely tongue-tied and recognizing a prank when she saw one, she tried to 'swim' through the air to the large stone archway. She figured she might be able to climb down it if she focused hard enough. The strange, breaststroke like motion pulled up a bark of laughter from Remus and Peter- and, she realized with even more dread, James and Sirius, uncovering themselves from beneath the invisibility cloak in the corner.

"Having fun, kitten?" Sirius said, watching Hermione struggle harder and harder against the upward motion. She took a break long enough to look underneath and give him a withering glare that promised every kind of revenge.

"Oh don't look age Sirius like that," James said, "you should look up instead, I think."

Hermione flipped over in mid-air so her back faced the ground, and if her tongue wasn't cemented to the roof of her mouth, she would have groaned. There, looking equally as furious, were her five other roommates, all bouncing against the vaulted ceiling. Alice's hair was spiked with static electricity and bits of cobweb stuck to the edges, and of all the girls, she looked the angriest. Hermione flipped back over to glare at the boys when she saw a flash of light; somehow, Sirius had stolen Marlene's camera. Looking on the side table, it looked like he'd stolen all their wands too, somehow.

Just then Hermione remembered the counter-curse. " _Reserare,_ " she thought while pointing her wand at her mouth, then at all the other girls. Immediately, insults and wandless curses rained down on the boys like a tidal wave crashing, and they all ducked for cover behind and underneath various pieces of furniture.

"Expelliar-MUS," Hermione said, belching half-way through trying to disarm James. As soon as she'd let out the burp, she felt herself descending minutely. She threw up a shielding charm against a sneaky jinx from Remus and decided to try belching again. Again she lowered closer to the floor.

"Guys! You need to burp!" she shouted to the girls, demonstrating by letting out a belch even Ron would have been proud of.

Mary looked disgusted, but when the other girls joined in and left her alone on the ceiling, she rolled her eyes and let rip a burp louder than anyone else.

By the time all six pairs of feet touched the ground, the boys had taken off for their dormitories, leaving the girls fuming.

"I am going to pummel that Black to the ground," Marlene growled, advancing on the stairs to the boy's dormitories.

"Not now, Lene," Lily said, "it's so late. Let's just get to bed and we'll call a roomie meeting first thing Saturday morning. They'll think the underwear prank was us taking it easy."

No one else was awake enough to argue with her, it being almost midnight, so the girls gathered what few personal things they'd left out and headed up.

Hermione, however, was wide awake. Whatever Remus had put in her drink to make her lift off the ground had indeed worked better than pepper-up potion. Knowing it was too late for even the prefects to be out patrolling now, she slipped out through the Fat Lady's passageway and went on a hunt through the hall of portraits.

A half hour and a dozen portraits later, and she was no closer to finding Lord Abrams. All three of the paintings she'd earmarked to investigate had been not only someone other than Lord Abrams, but also denied knowing anyone by that name in the castle, be they portrait, poltergeist, or otherwise.

She was about to give up when she heard one of the portraits to her right mutter, "Oh for Merlin's sake," and the whole world around Hermione shimmered. She tried to scream, feeling like she was being sucked _into_ the painting itself. When she finally stopped moving, now part of the landscape, she couldn't see, well, anything.

"Bout time you passed by my portrait," a bored voice said from apparently everywhere.

"Let me out!" Hermione shouted, raising her hands to try and feel her way through the utter blackness. But no matter how hard she searched, she couldn't find anything. It was like being trapped in a nightmare.

"See, I've got a bone to pick with you. So you can just sit tight for a mo'."

Hermione looked around for the source of the voice again. But above, below, and surrounding her on all sides was the same shade of black. It was a little like being suspended with the floating potion in that she still felt like she might get sick.

"Oh right," the voice said, "forgot you've got shit for an imagination." Hermione sucked in a breath, about to defend herself, when then the landscape shifted, from utter darkness to slightly less dark darkness, plus three dimensional. A floor appeared in a dark cherry color, and walls and a ceiling all dripping with dark red curtains. And then, from behind one of the curtains, a girl around her age appeared, looking like she'd just walked out of a Jane Austen novel.

"This?" she indignantly squawked, looking down at herself, "This is what you think I look like?"

"I'm… sorry?" Hermione tried, "I have no idea who you are, so I certainly don't think you have to look a particular way."

"Well thank Circe for that," the girl said, giving herself a shake like a dog and in her place, there appeared a spritely middle aged woman who looked like she'd just walked out of a punk rock concert. The woman smiled. "Much better. Now. You listen to me, Hermione Granger."

Now convinced she was suffering some sort of delusion from the Marauder's lifting potion, she didn't bother asking how the woman (girl?) knew her name. For a moment, she had an absurd wish for a high-backed armchair and a cup of tea, as if that would make her feel less intimidated.

When Hermione took a step back, it was only to have her calf brush against a soft, sturdy object that smelt of sweetened tea.

"Ready?" the woman asked, conjuring her own chair and encouraged Hermione to take the one she'd created. Hermione sat, and the woman nodded. "Good. I was prepared for a brawl like we had right after what's-her-face died. Glad you're a bit smarter than that now."

"Who?" Hermione panicked, "Who died? Who are you talking about?"

"Am I- Did I just-?" the woman peered at the space above Hermione's head and let out a small laugh. "Oh, sorry about that. Tenses are hard, especially with time all tangled like this. It's always a little rough during the rewrite."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"

The woman scoffed. "You read my book. You listened to the directions at the end. You've been flung back decades in time. Come on now, Granger, I'm getting more embarrassed by the minute. Knew I should have picked the Lovegood girl."

"You're Lord Abrams?" Hermione squeaked, "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize it as a pen name. Stupid of me, really, to just assume you were a man, but-"

"I am _TIME_ you inconsequential dung beetle!"

Hermione could only gape.

"Now that's more like it. Proper awe and adoration, that's the way to address me. Doing well for your first time." The woman said, once more giving a shake as she transformed into an elderly woman. Most of her white, wispy hair was now sticking up in a thousand directions and her skin was dappled with sunspots and age. "Now, to the meat and potatoes. I trust you understand why you're here now?"

"Here, as in this room? Not quite," she said, but at the old woman's furious looking face, she quickly amended, "but if you meant here in 1975, I think I've got a good handle on that, yeah."

"Thank me for small mercies," she muttered. "Then that brings us to my second question. If you know why you're here, _why the bloody hell aren't you doing anything about it?"_

"What do you mean doing nothing? I'm changing plenty of stuff just by being here!"

"You know damn well what I mean. You can't rely on the butterfly effect for everything. You're not doing even close to enough, and with you and that creature carrying on the way you are, I don't see you doing anything anytime soon!"

" _Creature?_ " Hermione repeated, and she felt the blood start to boil in her veins.

"Oh don't get like that. I'm just saying. You work for me. You are here, still alive, at my leisure, and right now I'm not exactly getting a return on my investments."

"What? You can't just- I mean- According to Lord Abrams-"

The crone waved her hand and Hermione was flung backwards to the farthest reaches of her armchair, lips glued together far tighter than any langlock spell. "Let me explain something, Granger. I didn't call you in here for a chat. You're getting marching orders. You don't have the option to be transferred elsewhere, reassigned, or go into early retirement. You are going to fix the mess that bloody, barmy wizard started. You are going to make sure that the past is irrevocably changed in favor of my survival, and you are going to get started as soon as possible. No more delays, or else… or else I'll start knocking out these little friends you've made, one by one."

Hermione was so angry she was seeing red. Tongue still frozen in her mouth, she imagined a chalkboard and conjured a piece of chalk to write with disembodied fury.

Time looked at her with approval in her eyes, and she shook herself back into her middle aged punk rocker woman. "You thought I believed in non-intervention, huh? Sorry, sweet cheeks. I am nobody's bitch. Perhaps you're thinking of Muggle Time? Now he is a worthless beast no better at protecting himself than he is counting himself in a uniform fashion. Have you ever seen the way muggles try and tell time? Unbelievable."

Hermione ignored the jibe at her parents and scribbled another few words on the board.

"Free will is such a mundane concept, Granger. I'm using you now, but that's hardly a symbiotic relationship. It's more of a...benevolent dictatorship. And the benevolence only runs for so long.

"I have seen empires rise and fall, little girl. I will watch with glee when they take over Constantinople, I am watching them build the Pyramids, and I watched when the first stone that would become Hogwarts was eroded into its shape. Wizards go backwards and forwards in thinking, fashions come and go, and the one you call death is coming, has come, and will come for every living thing. I was, am, and will be here because I am a _survivor_. I am using you to that end now, true, but don't be naive enough to think you are the one holding my life and death in your hands."

Hermione was squished and silent in here chair, and only now was she properly speechless.

Time continued, "I meant what I said earlier. You and your puny brain cannot see how close you are to failing, but I've lived this once before. You need to get off your arse, leave lover-boy alone, and fix this. Think back for a second. What have you ACTUALLY done to enact change?"

Time stopped talking for a second and stared at Hermione. She was too angry to think critically, though, and simply stared back. Time interpreted this differently.

"See? Told you. You've got nothing to show for almost four of your months of being here. And let me remind you, that's four months longer than you were going to be alive if I hadn't whisked you out of there. A thank you wouldn't go amiss, but if you're still such a selfish bitch you can't see a favor when it's in front of you, I'll include some additional motivation. After all, you have so many friends. I'm sure you have done- will do? everything to protect them."

Hermione forced the chalk to write so hard on the board it nearly broke in two.

"You think that if I hurt your friends I'll only be hurting myself? Funny little human brains. How do you get around in them? Granger, I'm not stupid enough to take out anyone with importance on a scale to par with my survival. But then again, you don't know who I'm talking about, do you? I remember your friends. Harry? Luna? Neville? Even little Teddy? You have no idea who might be disposable."

Hermione seethed, but instead of shouting a thousand obscenities or swinging a few punches like she desperately wanted to, (the arrogance! the entitlement of this creature!) she dug her nails into the palm of her hand and wrote down one more question.

"Seriously?" the woman said, shaking herself into a younger girl once more, though this time with far more skin showing, "you want to know why I can't just tell you what to do? What am I doing here!? I AM telling you!"

"But that's not enough information!" Hermione cried, the force of her fury setting off her accidental magic to unlock her tongue, "I don't have any more books and I can't do any research! I don't have enough variables to do the arithmancy either, and-"

Time morphed back into the elderly woman, got in Hermione's face. She could see her individual nose hairs trying to escape like snakes out of hell. "I give you everything you need, Granger," Time bit out. "Now GO!"

Before Hermione could blink, she was sitting on her rump on the stair landing. Above her, there was a painting shrinking away into nothing, disappearing frame and all.

"No, no, no!" Hermione shouted banging on the wall, "Come back!"

But the portrait was gone. The Five Scientists and Skeleton in the portrait above had shuffled into the empty space, and they were starting to give her the evil eye. When she looked around, she noticed many of the portraits looked freshly roused from sleep. Casting a tempus, she immediately started for her dorm. Somehow, she'd been robbed of five hours of sleep.

When she got to the fifth year's dorm, she silently dug down to the bottom of her trunk. Nothing bad could happen from using the time-turner for sleeping purposes only, she reasoned. There was no chance of her being seen, because she was stuck in the portrait even if someone walked the hallways sometime in the last five hours.

She'd almost forgotten the strange, spinning sensation that came from using a time turner as she watched her roommates toss and turn and get up to use the lavatory. When everything stilled she breathed a sigh of relief, took a swig of Dreamless Sleep, and crashed.

* * *

A/N: Every time I write one of these author notes, I'm more and more grateful to you all. You have no idea how much.

In GREAT news, I'm in the middle of continuing this story as my NaNoWriMo novel. I've written more in the last ten days than I have in the last...three months? Anxiety is definitely not going to let me hit the target 50,000 words in 30 days, but my hope is to get ahead on chapters so that I can go back to updating a little more regularly like I did in the beginning. Maybe every two weeks? We shall see.

I'm really surprised I'm updating right now, since I told myself I'd focus on writing this month, not editing and publishing. But I know many of us have had an emotional, exhausting week, so here's some fanfic to show my love. Take care of yourself.

Please let me know what you like!


	18. Chapter 18

The next two months were pure chaos for Hermione.

Some mornings were full of NEWT classes, which she was prepared for and flourished in. Other mornings were full of substitute teaching and staff meetings with Dumbledore, which she was not prepared for and was floundering in. Dumbledore kept assuring the other professors that Professor Steeley should be coming back 'any day now' so that Hermione could return to simply being a student. But as the meetings came and went, Hermione could feel McGonagall watching her more and more out of the corner of her eyes, probably noticing the bags under Hermione's getting larger and darker.

As time passed into afternoon and evening, she could be found in the library like a permanent sticking charm, up to her eyeballs in grading and homework for her NEWT classes.

Despite the stress of her workload, Hermione pushed herself to seek out Snape. Every time she taught the fifth year DADA class, she tried to keep Snape afterwards for a chat, but he and his oily hair could slip away like a will-o-the-wisp. She would send him an owl at breakfast, or try and catch his eye at dinner, or do 'just one more' lap around the castle trying to find his secret study space, but weeks passed and he still refused to talk to her. She reminded herself a little of Harry and his obsessive Malfoy hunt in sixth year, and shuddered at the comparison. At night when she inevitably couldn't find him, she would go to the common room to sit and mope with the other fifth years.

"Why do you want to find Snape so bad?" Remus asked her one night, letting his fingers twirl around in her new rat's nest of a hairdo.

Hermione bit her lip. "Well…"

"Ohh, let me guess," Marlene said, sitting up straight and pursing her lips like Hermione did when she was stressed. "I'm looking for Snape because he's my long-lost brother four times removed, and he never took me to the circus like he promised to."

Hermione stared, perplexed. Then Alice joined in, mimicking Hermione's voice perfectly.

"I have this terrible rare disease, and only Snape and his potion brewing can save me."

"Did Snape borrow your favorite hippogriff and you need it back?" Dorcas asked, smirking.

"Or she could just have the hots for him," Peter said.

The group stared at him. "That doesn't work, Pete," Sirius scowled, "You have to come up with a really ridiculous lie, like she always does."

"Me liking Snape _is_ completely ridiculous, thank you very much!"

"I'm sure it is, kitten."

"Is that what this is about?" she asked, quickly changing the subject before her lunch came back up, "Lying?"

"I love you, Hermione," Lily said, putting her arms around Hermione's shoulder, "but you are, without a doubt, the worst liar I've ever met."

All the fifth year heads bobbed in unison. Hermione crossed her arms and huffed.

Remus smiled. "If you really don't want to tell me you don't have to. But you really don't like him, right?"

The idea of touching Snape, future, present, or past, made actual bile rise in her throat. Remus chuckled and relaxed. "Is there anything I can do to help, then? I mean, I have my ways of finding people." He waved a blank, folded up piece of parchment in front of her.

Hermione had thought of that at one point. James and Sirius had an incident last year where they had each tried to turn their farts into flamethrowers, and Peter had a reputation for losing even his wand on occasion, so everyone knew Remus was the one who held on to the map. She'd only avoided asking him this long because the thought of accepting help from anyone who wasn't Harry, Ron, or Minerva made her squirm a little bit. But she knew at this point there was no choice. For all she knew, one of her friends could be sentenced to death tomorrow by that bitch Time if she didn't get a move on. So she nodded to Remus and watched as his whispered passwords made the map bloom open.

"Here he is," Remus said, easily pointing out the pacing set of footprints somewhere in the restricted section of the library.

"I was there a half hour ago," Hermione muttered to herself, throwing on a jumper and her shoes while keeping her eye on the map. "Could I take this?"

"I think it's probably best if I use it and you come with me instead," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to where the other three Marauders were already about to protest.

"Suit yourself," she said, trying to appear casual while anxiety flared in her mind. She would need to get rid of him at some point to have the conversation with Snape she knew she needed to.

Curfew was fast approaching, so both Gryffindors walked quickly through the halls of Hogwarts. At one point, Hermione thought she might have felt his fingers brush against the palm of her hand. When she looked down, though, he was stuffing his hand in his pocket to fiddle with the map. She bit her lip, trying not to feel disappointed.

Ever since Hermione, Remus, James and Sirius got their matching scars, the werecat part of her daily life had eased considerably. The thousand smells that passed through the castle and once gave her migranes now flitted through the background unless she chose to focus on them. The sounds of mice squeaking behind the walls still made her itch with an absurd desire to hunt, but they became a mere passing thought, easily brushed aside where once she'd have obsessed for long minutes before her mind calmed back down.

But despite the peace she'd made with her environment, her heart was constantly racing. Every look or slight touch from Remus reminded her that there was nothing stopping them from picking up where they seemed to have left off before she became a full werecat. Almost immediately, they'd started spending more time together. Talking by the fire in the common room while jointly doing homework became second nature, as did the increase in tension. _Oh_ , the tension. It seemed to wrap around them both like coils, binding them together tightly until Hermione thought she would go mad if he didn't kiss her.

 _You could always kiss him first_ , a sly voice in the back of her mind whispered. Almost as if Remus could read her mind, he looked down at her and waggled his eyebrows.

"Trip to the restricted section. Anything could happen."

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to get a grip. She could NOT let Remus distract her from the first chance she'd had to speak with Snape in weeks. Her hammering heart and the wonderful sinking feeling in her stomach would have to wait.

Madame Pince easily waved the two of them through and once they were out of sight Remus pulled the map fully out of his pocket to navigate. It didn't take Remus long to bring them side-by-side the now still footprints of Severus Snape. Hermione squinted her eyes, looking for the edge of his outline which would be visible if he were well disillusioned.

The second her sensitive feline hearing caught the sound of rustling fabric, Hermione yanked her wand out and cast a shield over herself and Remus. Whatever spell Snape sent their way pinged off the shield, ricocheting off the bookshelf and sending an enchanted book screaming down onto what must have been Snape's head.

"Bloody hell," his voice said, his body appeared to show him rubbing an angry red spot on his forehead.

"Thank you, Remus," Hermione said, taking a step towards Snape. "Could you give us a minute?"

Remus looked at her, then over to Snape. He didn't move. "Are you sure?"

"Don't worry, we won't be long."

He glared at Snape for another moment before nodding. "I'll be two stacks over. Ten minutes?"

"He's awfully protective," Snape grumbled, sending the book up to its resting place as Remus turned the corner.

"Have you been hiding from me?" she asked outright once she'd thrown up a muffilato.

"Perhaps."

"What if I needed to talk to you?"

Snape crossed his arms and leaned back carefully against the book stack. "I certainly don'tneed to talk to you."

"But you do!" Hermione said before launching into the speech she'd had prepared for weeks. "I'm not sure you understand how awful things could be if you don't listen to me. You can't become a death eater. I don't know what you could see in people like them, but I'm telling you, you can't."

"Did you know me in the future?" Snape asked, changing the topic after a beat.

"I did, as a matter of fact. You were my potions professor until sixth year year, when you taught Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Me? A professor?!" he said, his voice jumping an octave. It reminded Hermione, if only for a moment, that she was talking to a kid, really, and not just a younger-looking Professor Snape. This was just Severus, the dorky fifth year who got pimples and voice cracks and probably emotional meltdowns (if only in private) like any other teenager.

So she tried to downplay the role that had him so flummoxed. "You were a pretty rubbish professor, honestly. Even if you were a good potions master, you weren't particularly good with children. Ended up being the boggart of a classmate of mine."

That seemed to mollify him a bit. "I still can't see what would _possess_ me to stay here another moment past graduation."

After a pause, his voice grew much quieter. "Do you know why I did what I did? In the future? With Dumbledore and everything else you said?"

Hermione tried not to look excited by his progress. "Whatever the reasons were, you can still change. I know, because my being here now means it's not too late. If 1975 was too late, I would have been put in 1974, or '73, or who knows. But no, I don't know why you became such a... " she searched for a word that meant something like _inhuman monster_ but still wasn't too offensive to the man the word sort of belonged to. "...such a death eater, I guess."

Snape scoffed. "You can't truly think I would just wake up and decide to become a death eater because, I don't know, murder sounded fun or something?"

"No," she said, backtracking, "Of course you must have had some good reasons at one time or another. I don't pretend to understand the mind of a death eater, is all. You might have found a reason to believe blood purity was the superior philosophy, or you had a bad run-in with some muggles, so you thought all muggles were-"

Of all the sounds she'd expected, she hadn't thought she'd hear Severus laugh. It wasn't pleasant, at least not this one. It was high pitched like the sharp ting of bricks against bricks, and it made her uncomfortable. When she looked at him, she saw the feeling was mutual.

"If I was ever going to decide that all muggles were inferior, I would have made that assumption long, long ago." he said.

Hermione remembered what truly lay hidden underneath Snape's long-sleeved robes, and understood.

"Besides," he continued, "belief in a particular philosophy would never be enough to send me into war."

"What if the opposing philosophy was something so dark, so heinous you could never live with yourself if you didn't fight?"

"So heinous _you_ could never live with yourself, Granger. Merlin, no one can play a bleeding martyr like a Gryffindor."

Hermione crossed her arms, unhappy with how far away from the topic they'd drifted. She tried to reign it back in by asking the question she'd found drifting near the top of her pile.

"Why don't you just call me crazy and ignore me? Why do you even believe me when I say ridiculous things like that I come from the future?"

"I know what delusional looks like, Granger. You're not delusional."

"How do you know? I could be very convincing."

"Trust me." he said, and for some reason, she did.

"Okay... well... You should trust me, too. Please, Severus, don't join up with the death eaters, whatever they tell you. Somehow, you getting your dark mark and whatever else happens this year is what causes _the end of wizard kind_."

Hermione had kept that piece of information, of just how crucial he was, til the very end, in case he needed some real convincing. It paid off. He looked like he'd been petrified except for his mouth, which opened and closed in half-asked questions.

"Time's up," Remus said, coming back around the corner.

"No, wait!" Hermione said, but the spell had been broken, and Snape was pulling back into himself. He pulled his robes tightly around himself and stormed away without looking at either of them.

Hermione took the map out of Remus' hand and smacked him over the head with it.

"What was that for?" he asked, snatching the map back and rubbing his head where it certainly didn't hurt. Hermione didn't answer, but grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the common room before curfew. Hermione sighed. Snogging in the restricted area wasn't even a good idea in the first place.

* * *

The Great Hall was at a near roaring volume level before breakfast even properly began days later.

Hundreds of students were decked out in either Gryffindor red and gold or Slytherin silver and green. Many had rolled up signs tucked underneath their benches or beside their plates of bacon and toast. The hall was littered with banners, balloons, and body paint, all in preparation for the biggest quidditch game of the year.

All, that is, except for Hermione. She'd peeked her head into the Great Hall and immediately turned around, ready to march back up to the tower and forgo breakfast entirely. She had papers to grade, anyways, even if Professor Steeley would be coming back on Monday. Either that, or she should be working on tracking down Snape, who she knew never went to the games. Maybe he needed help… or something...

"Where do you think you're going, kitten?" Sirius asked with a cocky grin as the Marauders intercepted her, pulling her by the arm towards the Hall.

Hermione flailed as panic flooded her system with enough power to fight off a herd of hippogriffs. She wrested her arm out of his and scrambled backwards.

"Easy," Sirius said, holding up his hands.

"Hermione?" Remus asked.

"No, no, I'm so sorry, I can't," she said, backing up even further when he got closer.

"You guys go ahead to breakfast. I'll be along later," Remus said.

Hermione sucked down lungfuls of air as the other three boys retreated. Later on, she'd be proud of herself for not freaking out to the extent she had months ago when she attacked Lily at dinner. At this point though, even the part of her brain that had initially made the connection of "quidditch game means quidditch pitch which meant Wizarding Gladiatorial Melee" had disappeared, leaving no thoughts in her head other than a loud voice, shouting PANIC! PANIC!

"Hermione."

She looked up at Remus, the picture of calm and serenity. Just looking into his eyes felt like watching a thunderstorm from the safety of her dorm. She kept her eyes locked on his and remembered what Lily had taught her. Breath, count to five, and release. Breathe, count to five, and release.

The storm in her mind quieted a little.

Taking her hand, he guided them down the hallway away from the commotion in the Great Hall. He didn't push her to speak, and she didn't offer anything.

"Flopsy wasn't expecting youse," the little elf said with a surprised pop when they entered the large kitchen.

"I hope it's not too much, Flopsy," Remus said, squeezing Hermione's hand, "I was hoping we could eat breakfast in here, just this once? The Hall is a little too much this morning."

"Of course!" Flopsy said, pushing them over to a pair of human-sized stools out of the way.

They munched on toast for a while, watching the absurdly busy elves scurry this way and that. Hermione decided watching the organized chaos was just what she needed; by focusing on their hectic movements, her own brian couldn't take off and run screaming into the panic zone.

Remus simply sat across from her. Eventually, his calm began to rub off on her, and she felt like she could inhale without fearing a scream would explode out on her exhale. He'd twined their fingers together on the top of the table, and the way he was tracing his fingertip on her thumb felt heavenly. She knew he had to be dying of curiosity though, and she couldn't let him wait for an explanation forever. She sighed, and threw up some silencing wards.

"Do you remember asking me once if someone was after me? If there had been more than just the attack that killed my family?" she asked.

"I remember," he answered, darkly, "And I still wonder. But please, you don't have to tell me what's wrong if you don't feel like it. I'd sit with you all day without knowing why if you wanted me to."

Hermione picked up his hand to kiss the back of it. "Thank you. But I think you deserve to know. Because there was definitely more than one attack."

She pulled up her sleeve and sucked in a deep breath as she began. "This one, you've seen. I got captured and tortured by a crazed witch who thought I stole something of hers."

She lifted up her shirt as high as her sternum, pointing at the angry purple line that disappeared as it climbed up past her bra line. "This one I got in battle. My attacker was silenced so he could only curse me non-verbally. I'm told if he could have spoken, I'd be dead."

She continued, pointing out scars from stray hexes and curses she'd collected on the run with Harry and even before while still under the protective watch of Hogwarts itself. She kept her breathing even by not looking at Remus as she mapped out her body, explaining all the scars he'd probably already seen out of the corner of his eye while waiting for the moon to rise.

At last, she pulled up her left pant leg as high as she could, so most of her bite scar was on display. "And this scar…. this scar I got most recently. On a quidditch pitch."

Now Hermione raised her eyes to see Remus, whose eyes had fluttered closed while a single tear ran down his face.

"I thought being a werewolf was hard. But that… it's like nothing compared to everything you've gone through. How can you handle it?"

"Well," she said, completely unprepared for tears, "generally I handle it about as well as I did today, or that time in the Hall I attacked Lily. if I stop and think about any of it, I go mental."

"You are doing magnificently, if this is what you're trying to keep at bay. Merlin knows I'd be a bloody terror if I tried to manage all that. Probably would tear the castle half to death in a beastly rampage."

Hermione took a shuddering breath, the first sign of weakness she'd shown since starting her story. Remus noticed, and came around their little table to pull her into a tight hug. He stood there long enough for the sunlight to shift its angles in through the kitchen windows, and by that time his shirt was damp in multiple places. Hermione pulled away then, though the little circles he was rubbing on her back made her wish she didn't have to.

"I want to go to the match today," she said, pulling her hair back and blinking the last of her tears away.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Alright," he said, and folded his hand into hers. "We'll go slow."

As it turns out, the excitement of the game functioned the same way watching the house elves had. The energy and quick motions of the players kept her from focusing on anything else. A small part of her remembered how much fun it was to cheer for her friends as they swooped and dodged and lunged mid-air. And that's where her focus stayed- in the air. She focused on the players up high and away from the ground. The few times she forgot, Remus was right there to squeeze her hand and bring her focus back to the game.

Though they'd arrived at the game late, it wasn't all bad. The game took place in early April and the air was very chilly. Since the game went on for nearly five hours with the two teams deadlocked in the most intense form of house rivalry, Hermione was grateful she hadn't had to sit through all of it. In the end, though, Little Regulus Black caught the snitch to end the game, with Gryffindor winning by a mere ten points.

The walk back to the castle away from the Quidditch pitch was even better. Hermione was buoyed both by her house's win and the conquering of her fear, and even the dipping temperatures couldn't diminish the warmth bubbling up inside her. She nearly skipped the whole way back, bouncing between Remus and her pack of roommates, who had all convinced Lily that fireworks were only against the rules _inside_ the castle and were sending up sparkling explosions the Weasley twins would have been proud of.

When a group of third year Gryffindors started bragging to some Ravenclaws that there would be a party in the common room with firewhiskey, Remus went off to deal with it, leaving Hermione alone.

She was ok though. She was pushing through to get to her roommates when she felt a hand grab her arm and yank her out of the river of students. She pulled back easily, but upon seeing the haunted look on Severus' face, she stepped out and behind the tree he'd darted to.

"Severus? Is something wrong?"

He was shaking.

"It… it's not all up to me, right? It can't be. There's other people who can affect this future of yours. Right?"

Hermione's heart sank for him. Ever since Minerva and her book had explained why she was in 1975, she'd felt that weight of responsibility. She hated that he would need to bear it as well, but it seemed as though he was just as responsible as she was. Maybe more so.

"I'm sorry. My research all points to one person being the straw on the camel's back. Of course I'm going to try everything I can to change the outcome of the war in other ways, but without you, it'll be useless."

Snape slammed his eyes shut, and he pressed the palms of his hands into them. "How?" he moaned quietly, "How am I supposed to do that?"

"I'll help with anything you need! I promise, I'll do anything."

"No, _how?_ _HOW DO I CHANGE THE FUTURE?"_ he roared, now grabbing her shoulders in an uncharacteristic flow of emotion.

"Hey!" Sirius said, coming around the corner with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "Get your hands off her!"

In an instant, a half dozen jinxes started flying. Hermione had to duck around the tree to get out of the way. She threw blocking spell after blocking spell between the boys, but the fight was ridiculously uneven. Even a talented wizard like Severus Snape couldn't fight off an entire quidditch team on his own. With one well-aimed _bombasta_ towards the ground at James Potter's feet, he gave himself enough time to sprint back towards the castle, leaving Hermione behind.

"What was that wanker doing, Hermione? Did he hurt you?" Sirius asked, sprinting up towards her. He moved to check her for injuries, but she brushed him off.

"Honestly, we were just having a normal conversation. He's just a little frustrated with me right now."

"What is with girls and defending guys who treat them like crap?" James said, suddenly full of anger, "Lily does the same thing with him, you know. I don't know what you all see in him. He's a tosser who can't be bothered to treat a lady with respect. Do you know what I heard him calling Marlene one day?"

"I'm sure it was positively awful," she said, standing. "Thanks for trying to help, but I really had it under control."

"Didn't bloody look like it," Marlene muttered under her breath.

"I'm sorry, Marlene," she said, "really. I know Snape can be a git. But I think he's turning over a new leaf."

James snorted. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"C'mon, kitten," Sirius said, slinging his damp, sweaty arm over her shoulder. "Forget him. Let's party like it's 1975."

Hermione let the team lead her forward, but she couldn't easily forget. Something about the look on Severus' face made her stomach sink with unexplained worry.

* * *

Regardless of the decade, it seemed all Gryffindors knew how to party in style, and it was the perfect cure for her earlier worry. A few of the seventh year guys tried bringing out firewhiskey, but Remus and Lily were adamant about keeping the party clean. Even Sirius, who Hermione remembered as having a terrible drinking problem in her time, didn't bother trying to sneak any in. She was surprised, but reasoned that if there was one thing Marauders knew how to do, especially Marauders who were high on a victory over Slytherin, and _especially_ Sirius Black high on a victory over his little brother, it was party.

The whole common room had been decked out in both lights and streamers, and they dangled from every available surface. One of the sixth year girls who Hermione remembered as Skank #2 was a brilliant DJ, and she kept the tunes, both muggle and wizard, coming from the record player all night. The house elves had prepared special snacks for the house that won the game, so all the cupcakes had been charmed gold and scarlet.

Hermione had just chosen one of these confectionary masterpieces when Remus came up to her. "Do you want to dance?"

She froze, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk's.

Remus chuckled. "You've got a little frosting…" he trailed off, swiping his thumb across the corner of her mouth, "there."

Hermione's mind made a sound like _guh._

"Do you not want to dance?" Remus asked, taking a step back and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "We don't have to. We could always just talk, or something."

Mouth still full of cupcake, Hermione waved her hands in front of her frantically.

"Is that a yes to dancing, or a yes to talking? Or a no to both?"

Hermione nodded her head, pointed to the two of them, and mimicked someone waltzing.

Remus smirked, catching on. "Huh? What are you trying to say? You think we should go move some furniture?"

Hermione glared as she swallowed. "You're impossible, Remus Lupin."

"An impossibly good dancer, you mean," he said, tugging her into the middle of the common room where the couches had been moved back to make room for a dance floor.

Out there, in the middle of a bopping, grooving crowd where Hermione could describe the deaths of almost each dancer, in the middle of time caught up in a storm they couldn't even see, Hermione let go.

And Remus caught her.

He pulled her out of the dip as the opening strains to an ABBA song magically amplified throughout the tower. It actually wasn't an easy song to dance to, but somehow Remus was _killing_ it. He twirled her in tight circles, spun her away from and into his chest, and even tried a few lifts. Hermione would have never guessed such a lanky guy with the proportions of a puppy could be so coordinated on the dance floor. She mentioned as much, and Remus blushed.

"You remember that night we snuck up on you in the library? Well, we were researching a spell that would give someone fantastic dancing skills."

"And here I thought you were learning how to make fizzy lifting drinks."

"Would you like to try dancing on the ceiling?" he asked with a wink.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he chose that moment to dip her again. There, hanging upside down with only his arms keeping her suspended in mid-air, Hermione could see him illuminated by all the bright lights set up in the room. His face was flushed red from all the dancing, and a stray thought crossed her mind about _other_ ways she could make him flush like that.

 _Just one look and I can hear a bell ring. One more look and I forget everything. Wooah- wooah!_

Someone in the crowd whistled at the pair of them and Remus pulled her back up, holding her close to steady her.

 _Mamma Mia, here I go again. My my, how can I resist ya?_

"You make me so nervous," he confessed in a whispered rush.

Hermione's heart fluttered, but she didn't say anything. She instead laced their fingers together and push-pulled him along to the beat of the song, letting the music say what she didn't know how to. On a whim, she did the back and forth finger-pointing dance she remembered her parents doing when they listened to this song.

"Woah, what's that?" Remus asked, his eyes lighting up when he saw the move.

"Uhhh…"

Remus tried it out, laughing at himself. "This looks ridiculous, but the spell is letting me do it, so it must be a good idea!"

Hermione looked over his shoulder to James and Sirius, who were apparently copying all of Remus' dance moves. Peter accidentally finger-pointed James in the eye, but that wasn't enough to stop its popularity. The dance craze spread throughout the Gryffindors like fiendfyre until they were all jumping up and down in unison.

"Knew you'd be a brilliant dancer," Remus murmured in her ear, pressing her close after spinning her back into his arms, "I never would have asked without the potion."

"I think I'd like to see your moves without it sometime, actually."

"Oh really?" Remus asked. "I can mimic that for you, if you'd like."

He took both her arms, raised them over her head, and shook them in the most ridiculous flailing dance she'd ever seen. She laughed, feeling like a puppet on a string as he hip-checked her and made her whole body move side to side in waves.

Immediately, his back-up dancers caught the move, thinking it was something provided by the dancing potion, and they copied it perfectly. This time though, the rest of the room stared at the writhing Marauders like they'd caught a plague.

Remus ducked his head and pulled Hermione far away from the other three boys. "I think you can see why I chose the potion."

 _I suddenly lose control…_

Hermione could only look up at him, grin, and do the silly dance on her own, hand waving and all. He had no idea how completely endearing it was, both his natural style of dancing and the fact that he took a potion to try and impress her.

" _There's a fire within my souul…_ _"_ Remus sang as he watched her, his eyes tracking her every move.

She was trying to get the back and forth wave thing right when he gathered her up in his arms and all time stopped.

He was _kissing_ her.

His lips were incredibly soft, and he brushed them tentatively against her own. Hermione's heart hammered in her chest as she lowered her arms from the chaotic flailing to rest on his shoulders. Or should she touch his hair?

Remus didn't seem to care what she did with them. He seemed much more focused on her lips, now pressing into her firmly and pulling her closer by the loops on her borrowed bellbottom jeans. A little thrill shot down her spine when she felt his tongue tracing her bottom lip, probably tasting her cupcake from a moment ago. It was then she decided she'd much rather thread her fingers through his hair. It was so _soft,_ just like the little noise he made when she accidentally scratched her fingernails against his scalp.

A group of first year boys up way past their bedtime chose that moment to point them out, whistling and clapping. "REMUS AND HERMIONE SITTING IN A TREE!"

"W-H-O-M-P-I-N-G!" Peter called back, squishing the extra letter in to the delight of James and Sirius. The whole room turned to look at the pair of them, frozen in the middle of the room.

"Hold on one moment," Remus said, pecking her on the lips before taking a step back. "YES!" he cheered and jumped up to fist-punch the air.

A collection of whoops, whistles, and applause greeted Hermione's ears, as he pulled her in for a second kiss. Though she felt her face turning red as a tomato, there was giant smile was stretched across her face. She grinned even wider when Remus picked her up and twirled her around, just as the opening strains of another ABBA song blasted through the record player and the room went nuts.

* * *

A/N: Oh I hope you like this. I worked really hard on this one, and I wanted to end it on a good note. It's also my longest chapter ever!

I wanted to upload this chapter early for three reasons.

 **ONE** , because I've received so much support for this story recently, and I wanted to thank everyone who's bolstered my confidence when I feel like my writing is crap.

 **TWO** , I couldn't have Remus and Hermione apart any longer.

And **THREE** , because this story has been nominated for a Shrieking Shack Society's Maruader's Medal in the "Best WIP" category! If you're interested in voting for The Ark in the Storm, you can go to the following link: goo*gl/forms/G4ffch0cFeo8kz6t2 (with a . instead of a *)

But there are so many other, better stories up for the medal in this same category. So if you haven't already, please read some of these other Remus/Hermione stories and show THEM as much love as you've shown me (and probably your vote, too because they deserve it):

Stages by SableUnstable, Be Silently Drawn by sparksmoon99, Coming Home by TheWritingFerret, Give Me Up For Gone by cellorocksmyworld (actually Remus/Tonks, but it's so fantastic).

There are NINETEEN categories for Marauder Medals, so even if you don't want to vote for best WIP, please do go to that link and support your friendly neighborhood fanfiction writer! Your support means the world.


	19. Chapter 19

Substitute teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to the fifth year classes became increasingly difficult the week after the late night Gryffindor party.

Professor Steeley requested she dedicate the first ten minutes of class to whatever current events the students had discovered, either through their espionage tricks (which always earned extra points) or by simply reading any newspaper. "Knowledge is Power" was permanently scrawled on the top of the blackboard, and she never let her students forget it. Sirius, James, and Peter, however, had taken to offering thinly veiled descriptions of her and Remus' blossoming relationship as 'news of the day.'

"Professor?" Peter piped up one day, "I heard through the _auditorio_ spell some interesting noises coming from the Gryffindor common room last night. I think it was the house elves plotting a coup."

James had something next time. "Professor? I believe I successfully scryed last week. I saw two figures standing very close together in what I think was the Ministry of Magic on Founder's Day. There seemed to be fireworks going off, after all."

" _Professor,_ " Sirius said, running in late to class, "today's breaking news story is that some relatively unknown, yet immensely powerful witch has stolen the heart of a local heartthrob!"

"Mr. Black how many times do I have to tell you-"

"No, look!" he said, spreading the Daily Prophet out on his desk. The front page was almost entirely taken over by a wizarding photograph of a young Bellatrix with a man Hermione immediately recognized as a death eater. Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Bellatrix isn't some unknown witch, you idiot," a Slytherin called from the back, "She's Sacred Twenty-Eight! And your cousin!"

"Oh," Sirius said, not looking bothered at all, "so she is."

"And he's no heartthrob," Mary McDonald commented, pointing out his coiffed, greasy hair.

"Really? I thought I described the latest and greatest news perfectly," Sirius said.

"Go jump in the lake, Padfoot," Remus muttered.

"But what if I miss more breaking news?"

"I'll send you an owl with a waterproofed copy of the Prophet."

Sirius seemed appeased by that, though he didn't stop grinning like a loon. Hermione glanced around the class to see if everyone picked up on the underlying meaning this time. She'd been lucky so far.

Obviously, all of the Gryffindors knew. And by now, the Gryffindors must have talked to most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Some of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws socialized with the Slytherins, too, which meant that by now, everyone must know the state of her and Remus'…. Well, it wasn't exactly a relationship.

The two of them had elected not to define it as such for now, just in case there were any rules against it as far as her substitute teaching went. Professor Dumbledore never asked her to sign any kind of anti-fraternization policy, though. Heck, she hadn't actually signed anything. That was probably a poor decision, she realized.

Coming out of her reverie, she looked out over the sea of fifth year face, and could see in the knowing glances they threw between her and Remus that each and every student knew what Sirius' jokes had really been about. And it mortified her.

"Alright everyone, pair up. Mr. Black, you're with me." The lesson plans for the day might help her get back at the cocky git, who was insufferably still smiling.

There were excited murmurs from the class as Hermione sent the desks and chairs to the furthest reaches of the room, stacked to give the maximum amount of space.

Hermione had read the lesson plans for this particular class over and over for the last two weeks. Most of the lessons Professor Steeley had left were simple lecture formats or posting questions for students to work on quietly from their books at their desks. She hadn't left any demonstrations, projects, or practicals until now, and Hermione wasn't convinced it was going to work. There were so many things riding on what Professor Steeley called her "gut feelings about the dynamics of the class,' which to Hermione felt a lot like using divination to guess at how many goats she could herd into a pen.

But Hermione was nothing if not faithful to her obligations, and so she followed the written directions dutifully. "Professor Steeley has decided the discussion topic of the day will be taken from one of the _legitimate_ current events someone brought in today. I think Miss MacDonald's briefing from the Ministry of Magic would do quiet nicely. Would you care to repeat it for those who've forgotten?"

"There were two unnamed sources my long-range enchanted bugs caught, talking about a recent gathering in the lobby of the Ministry. There were people there protesting a recent uptick in ministry employees from muggle backgrounds, and their argument was that "magic thieves" had no place working for the ministry." Mary recited, looking down at her notes the whole time.

"Thank you," Hermione said, noting the embarrassed flush on Mary's face. "So with that in mind, you and your partner will be debating whether or not it's possible for muggle-borns to be magic thieves. Whoever is younger will take the affirmative- that is, muggle-borns CAN steal magic- and the older will take the negative."

A grumble of complaint came from many Slytherins who were older in their pairing, as well as some Gryffindors who were younger- especially Sirius.

"I'm not arguing that," he said plainly, crossing his arm. "Switch with me."

"Mr. Black, are you suggesting that as a muggleborn, I should just cave to the wills and beliefs of you, a pureblood?"

Sirius sputtered. "What? No! I'm just saying it's stupid to think that muggleborns could steal magic. They'd have to learn how when they're just kids!"

Hermione looked around the room. All over, there were pairs of students becoming more and more agitated. She noticed Snape, however, was a stone wall. His partner, a slip of a Slytherin girl, was waving her arms and pointing her fingers at him.

"Think, Sirius," she said, refocusing on her partner, "People don't believe something without finding reasons to back up their opinions. Surely, sometime in your life, you've heard _someone_ make an argument about muggleborns that made at least a little sense to you."

But Sirius wouldn't budge. Hermione kept pressing him though, remembering every foul thing his mother's portrait had screamed at her from the hallway of Grimmauld Place and threw it in his face like a fact. Farther and farther she pushed him out of his comfort zone until he finally exploded.

"I refuse to argue the same points made by the likes of my mother!" Sirius growled as he drew his wand.

Even though it's the reaction she'd been hoping for, Hermione was still shocked that Professor Steeley's plans had predicted this so exactly. All around the room, a dozen students had already drawn their wands, and some had even begun dueling. Pulling her own wand out, she cast a body bind over every student. A room that had seconds before been full of yelling, cursing, and dueling was now ringing in silence.

"I want you to listen very carefully," Hermione said, walking through the groups of unmoving students, "There is nothing wrong with having a strong opinion, especially on an issue as controversial as this. I wasn't asking you to argue because I thought you could change your partner's mind, or even to expose them to the merits of other viewpoints, though both of those would be happy accidents if they came true. More importantly, Professor Steeley wanted you to experience a high level of stress in a sensitive argument, and get to a point where you felt powerless to explain yourself in a way the other person would understand."

"So remember what you were feeling when you realized you couldn't convince the other person. Remember how badly you wanted them to understand you, how angry you were that they weren't listening to your points, how idiotic you might have thought their comments were. And most especially, remember what it was that finally tipped you over the edge and made you pull your wand out."

"Only weak witches and wizards resort to their wands in a fight when words work perfectly well. This was never meant to be a test of how well or quickly you could 'win' an argument. In the real world, you can't go and attack everyone you disagree with. You'll have a guest speaker from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement later this year to talk about how to duel legally, what your rights are if you're attacked, and how to best protect yourself against one, so don't bother doing any additional research on that for homework. Instead, you'll be writing a foot and a half on how words are the most effective weapons due next class. Dismissed."

Hermione waved her wand and the class unfroze. Slowly, they began picking up, shame keeping the room quiet as a cemetery. She noticed Sirius tripping and spilling his papers all over the floor.

"Mr. Black, please pick up-"

"A word, professor?"

Hermione turned and found Severus standing off to her side, his face still tightly controlled. The room was fast emptying of students, and Hermione felt hope rising. Perhaps he'd calmed down? Was ready to start talking about how to avoid the death eaters? Even if he'd acted strange after the quidditch game, he seemed to be doing better now. She sat down on a table in the front row and gave him her full attention.

"I just wanted to ask if you could refrain from doing an assignment like that again," he said, bluntly.

"Come again?"

Severus grit his teeth. "I'm ever so politely asking that you not put me in that position again. You know my history with my father, and..." he shook his head, "Just please. I don't know what Professor Steeley's left you for work, but don't ask us to debate on that particular topic again. I can't defend it."

"I certainly wasn't planning on repeating the experiment," she said, "However, you might use this activity to realize you have a sensitivity to the subject. If an enemy knew about it..."

Severus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. She saw his hand twitch at his side where his wand was tucked away, but he resisted the urge to grab it.

"Good. You're learning."

Whether it was out of embarrassment from being praised or shame from twitching at all, he stormed away.

"Oh Mr. Snape? Could you pick up whatever Mr. Black and Mr. Potter dropped over there and bin it on your way out?"

Severus scowled but picked them up on his way out. It wasn't until Hermione was cleaning up her classroom before leaving that she noticed the papers were neither on the floor, nor in the bin, nor anywhere else.

* * *

By now, Hermione and the boys had settled into a very comfortable full moon routine. Usually, Hermione and Remus started on opposite ends of the Shack alone while they transformed.

Remus insisted on this as a matter of 'common decency,' and Hermione liked that no one really saw her at her most vulnerable. Not because of her nakedness, but because she was totally defenseless. Her wand was under the floorboards, most of her friends had no idea where she was, and the wards were thick enough to keep her from escaping despite any threat to herself or Remus. It was hard enough to deal with the pain of transformation without the additional anxiety.

After the werecreatures had torn their way into the world, Sirius and James could come when they pleased, entering through the passage under the Whomping Willow and transforming before they crossed the wards into the Shack. Remus, tamed by his wolfsbane, would greet them enthusiastically when they arrived, licking, barking, and bouncing around. Hermione's werecat was never as enthusiastic, but at least she'd never attacked either animagi since getting the matching scars. To her, neither the dog nor the stag were worth fighting, and in fact they told Hermione that her werecat would be meowing loudly and annoyingly if they took too long to show up.

Peter, unfortunately, never received the same treatment. James tried to repeat what happened their first moon together; he stabbed everyone with his antler (except the little rat, who cut his paw on a nail) and mixed all the blood together. But for whatever reason, Peter never developed one of the matching scars, and he never was accepted by Hermione's werecat in the same way James, Remus, and Sirius were. Even more unfortunately, he was a rat. If his form had been a goat, an eagle, or a komodo dragon, there might not have been a problem. Instead, it took the full grown werewolf, stag, and grimm to keep her from constantly pouncing on and killing Wormtail. Finally, Peter decided he'd rather not come and play during the full moons at all.

This moon, however, was going to be just Remus and Hermione. The four Marauders had gotten caught using their "Fizzy Lifting Potion" on Professor Slughorn, and so they were spending the moon scrubbing cauldrons with a toothbrush.

Both Remus and Hermione were currently curled up on the floor in their robes, waiting in exhausted silence. They'd stayed up all night trying to completely tire themselves by talking, reading, and, well, mostly they'd been doing _other_ activities. It had worked well though, and both felt ready to drop even before the moon was up. Remus learned that once he took the wolfsbane potion, he was capable of sleeping during part of the full moon if he were tired enough, and that meant a much quicker recovery the day after. Hermione's werecat form was far more rambunctious and had too much energy to sleep, but it didn't mean Remus had to suffer the same fate. Sirius and James would pounce and scamper and play fight with her until they she tired them out, and then they'd join Remus to doze on the floor. One bleary-eyed morning, Sirius said he was too to deal with a werecat going through her 'kitten' phase. He barely had time to duck to avoid Hermione's right hook.

He was probably right, though. She could feel the moon about to rise and that kitten-like energy was singing in her blood. She was nearly bouncing off the walls when she realized something was wrong. She froze in place to listen and smell, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Hermione and Remus both craned their necks towards the door where a single footstep sounded at the bottom of the staircase, just as the first rays of moonlight came through the slats of the shack. Remus looked at her, wide-eyed, and he began his transformation.

She tore through the door and leaped down the whole flight of stairs in a single bound, tackling the figure at the bottom.

"What the…?" she said, recognizing the oily smell immediately.

"Hermione?"

"Bloody hell," she cursed, grabbing Snape by the collar and running as fast as she could through the shack and towards the tunnel to the entrance at the Whomping Willow. He sputtered and choked as she ran, swearing up and down that he'd get her back for this.

"I'm saving your life, you complete arse!"

When she felt the tearing in her spine, she stopped like she'd been hit by a truck. Snape dangled in mid-air, kicking against her unnatural strength. By now, he could see wiry, black hairs growing on her hand, and the shock and terror turned his face white as a sheet. Between howls of pain, she managed to choke out a warning.

"Run."

Her conscience was fading as she dropped her prey. _Why was she dropping her prey?_ She watched Snape sprint down the tunnel, screaming.

 _Must chase_ she thought, as her last drop of humanity dissolved into werecat.

* * *

A/N: Aaaand cliffhanger! Thanks to my roommate M for alpha reading this and all of you for the AMAZING response last chapter! I'm completely overwhelmed by all the comments, questions, and squeeing. You have no. idea. how much it means to me.

Hope my fellow Americans had a good Thanksgiving last week! I'm thinking of writing some kind of Remione Christmas oneshot. Is that something anyone would be interested in? I'm debating between that and just focusing on The Ark in the Storm. Lemme know!

(Also, FYI, the Marauders Medals voting ends this Wednesday, so you still have time to vote for this or any of the other amazing fics!)

Love, love, love to you all.


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione sat in front of the headmaster's office, her leg bouncing nervously as she waited. She still had no idea what happened last night after she told him to run, but there was a metallic taste in her mouth and an all-encompassing fear that twisted her stomach in knots. It wasn't until Snape passed her to meet with Dumbledore that she was able to even breathe again. At least she hadn't killed him. But she had no idea what Snape's becoming a werewolf would to change the future. If he was a _creature_ , would that force him to choose the side against Voldemort? Or would it cause her to resent her forever, and do the opposite of what she'd warned out of pure spite? Her thoughts crashed into one another as she fought to not hyperventilate.

Remus was sitting right next to her on the floor, his hand resting uselessly on her knee while it bounced away. She'd noticed a lot more cuts and scrapes on his body than usual when they woke up, but Madame Pomfrey had killed any chance for Remus to tell her what happened by sending them immediately to Dumbledore.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Lupin," he said, opening his door, "If you could join me in here for a moment?"

Snape was sitting in Dumbledore's large guest chair, stiff and bolt upright while Fawkes twittered over him. She could still see a thick piece of fabric wrapped around his forehead with a dark stain in the middle, and there was plenty of dried blood criss-crossing his neck and hands, like someone had thrown him in a blender. Though most of him was covered in his black robes, Hermione could tell the damage underneath must have been severe. Every line stood out in an angry shade of red that screamed _your fault, your fault_.

"Have a seat, please," Professor Dumbledore said, conjuring two comfortable armchairs, "Could you start, Miss Granger? What happened last night, to the best of your ability?"

Snape wouldn't look at her, and that made her sick to her stomach. She'd ruined him, she knew it. Underneath his robes somewhere was a bite mark that would forever chain him to the cycle of the moon. He'd probably be joining Remus and herself in the Shack the very next month. She buried her face in her hands.

"My transformations always start a little later than Remus. We heard someone trying to come up the stairs just as the moon was rising, so I went to take care of it while Remus transformed. I dragged Snape as far as the entrance to the tunnel before I felt my own transformation coming. I told him to run, and then I don't remember anymore. I'm so- I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Mr. Snape told me a similar story. Mr. Lupin? Do you have anything to add?"

He hesitated. "Well, I take a- that is I- she didn't-"

Hermione looked at him out of the corner of his eye and saw him rubbing his forearm and grimacing in pain. Hermione felt a burning sensation on her own arm, and looking under the table she could see the thin, gold thread outlining both their arms just as it did when they made the unbreakable vow.

 _Swear to not tell anyone about this potion._

He looked at Hermione helplessly. He knew the whole story, he probably saw it all happen, but revealing that knowledge would mean revealing how he kept his mind during the moon. He hung his head.

"No, Professor," Remus finally said.

"Alright then, if you're sure. Now our other guests should be arriving shortly-"

"You wanted to see us, Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Excellent timing, Mr. Potter. Will you and Mr. Black take a seat just over there?"

This time, Dumbledore conjured two backless stools made of hard, rough wood. James sat slowly like a man before the gallows. Sirius sat with his arms crossed tightly across his chest and head bowed. Neither looked like they'd slept much last night.

"Would you like to say anything before we begin?"

"We're so sorry," James said, looking between Snape and Dumbledore, "We didn't want him to get hurt. It wasn't supposed to get as far as it did."

"Very well. Could you please tell me how your little joke was supposed to go, then?"

James rolled his head back so he was staring at the ceiling. "We kept dropping hints for Snape, like he could find out his future by using this magical object that appeared in the Shrieking Shack on the full moon. He's been messing with Hermione, and we'd heard him asking about how to tell the future so we thought it would get him to go there. He was only supposed to go to the shack, realize he couldn't get in, hear all the noises inside, and run off scared."

"But somehow Mr. Snape found the secret path under the Whomping Willow and decided to use that, instead," Dumbledore said, filling in the rest.

"They've got this magical map, Professor," Snape said like he was going in for a kill, "They can keep tabs on anyone in the castle, and it shows all these secret passageways."

"I have never in my life heard of such a thing," Sirius said, looking fake shocked, "But if I had, how would you have gotten your hands on something of mine?"

"You can't detect a dissolusionment charm for crap, Black," Snape said. "You'd be surprised how many things I've been able to read over your shoulder."

"Why you little-"

"Boys, please," Dumbledore said, getting both boys to sit back down. He then turned to Sirius. "Mr. Black, I hope you recognize how seriously I'm taking this incident. Your carelessness could have cost another student his life, or could have permanently infected him with lycanthropy. Luckily, neither happened last night."

All the air rushed out of Hermione's lungs. "You mean, he's not going to turn? I didn't bite him?"

"No, Miss Granger. Neither you nor Mr. Lupin passed your condition on to Mr. Snape. It's possible he might have certain wolfish characteristics from now on, such as a taste for rare meat around the full moon, but he will never transform."

Hermione sagged back in her chair, and Remus gave her hand a squeeze. She looked up, and he seemed to be trying to convey something with only his eyes. Apparently, there was more to Dumbledore's story.

Dumbledore sighed. "It still remains how I am going to sufficiently discipline you both for such a thoughtless, dangerous prank. Dealing with werewolves-"

"Well, a werewolf and a werecat," Sirius corrected.

"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore said, his twinkling eyes clouding over in confusion.

"Werecat. Hermione's not a werewolf, professor. She's black with a long tail and pointy ears, all panther-like."

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore said.

"And Remus doesn't like the way she smells. Or at least he didn't, because apparently to his wolfy nose, cats smells awful."

"Ok, but-"

"And did you know that werecats really chase mice, just like regular cats? And don't get me started on rats-"

"Mister Black, you will not be able to talk yourself out of a consequence," Professor Dumbledore said, eyeing him.

James glared at Sirius with a classic 'too far' look. Siris shrugged his shoulders and went back to crossing his arms, but this time he stared forward, defiantly.

"For starters, both you and Mister Potter will need to finish serving your detention for Professor Slughorn, and he has requested an additional three nights of cauldron cleaning as punishment for leaving last night's detention early."

"It gets more complicated when we get to your actual stunt, however. I cannot publicly give any sort of punishment that would divulge or even allude to Mister Lupin or Miss Granger's condition. Expulsion, which you'd earn in any other case of endangering the life of another student, is impossible in this case, as is writing to your parents or giving you detentions. It's not possible to give a punishment without giving a reason for it, and Mister Lupin and Miss Granger deserve to work and study at this school in peace. That would be impossible should everyone be aware what happens to them on the full moon."

"Because of this, your punishment is to, under no circumstances, have contact with Mister Snape. Your teachers will be informed to keep you separate and not to assign group work that includes Mister Snape. You will not be allowed to join the same clubs, sit in the same carriage on the Hogwarts Express, or communicate with Mister Snape in any way. Should I hear of any sort of prank, even the most benign, I will assign consequences of the most severe kind. Is that understood?"

Both James and Sirius nodded and appeared contrite, but Hermione knew that look in Sirius' eye. It was the same one Ron wore when he got in less trouble than he deserved, but was trying not to look too elated about it. Seeing that face on Sirius, after he nearly ruined Snape's life, not to mention both hers and Remus', made her blood boil.

"Thank you all for coming here today. Let's all head to breakfast and start to put this unfortunate incident behind us, hm?"

Hermione dug her heels into the carpet and crossed her arms as everyone, including Professor Dumbledore, got up to leave. Remus touched the back of her hand and paused, waiting for her. She couldn't even look at him, afraid she'd lose what little restraint she currently had. He must have been able to hear the blood crashing like rapids through her veins because nodded and turned to go. She hoped everyone would leave her alone with Dumbledore quickly; her body was shaking with the effort of staying upright and alert after her late night activities and early morning of panic.

When the room was finally empty save for Dumbledore, he closed the door behind the rest with a click and returned to his desk.

"I imagine you're upset, Miss Granger," he said, placatingly.

"Oh, you can imagine that, can you?"

"I don't have the experience that you do of pain, shame, and prejudice, true. But I was in a similar position once."

"What on _earth_ could have been similar to tonight?"

He waved his hand away. "What's important is that you're safe. I would do anything I could to protect the students at this school so they have an environment conducive to learning."

"And what about Severus' safety?" she asked, bluntly. "Doesn't he deserve to study and work in peace, without threat to his life?"

Dumbledore nodded. "He does. And as far as I know, the biggest threats to his safety were Mr. Potter and Mr. Black, and they're now forbidden any contact with him. I fail to see what else he needs as far as protection."

"Surely, you can see how Severus might feel like he doesn't matter, when the kids who nearly killed him basically got away with it scot-free."

"Are you trying to get your friends punished, Miss Granger?"

"No, I'm trying to make sure the right thing gets done."

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and folded his hands together. "Sometimes, a way may seem right, but in the end it's shown to be a grave mistake, even death. Sometimes it's better to let small injustices slide so that worse things don't happen."

"What kind of worse things?" she raged, the adrenaline now pumping her exhausted system past its limits, "What's worse than someone thinking no one cares about him, especially those whose job it is to care for them?"

"You tell me, Miss Granger. What's worse than that?"

Hermione froze. Memories of Hogwarts burning, friends dying, and Voldemort's triumphant laugh flashed through her mind. Dumbledore was staring at her like he'd discovered the map to Atlantis, like he knew he'd struck a nerve.

While Hermione was gaping like a fish, Dumbledore pressed her. "If you knew of anything which was a threat to my students, Miss Granger, it would be your duty as a temporary staff member of this school to inform me. But I'm sure you already knew this."

"Of course, Headmaster," she said, ignoring the fear fluttering in her chest to continue her point. "I have no knowledge of anything at this school which could be more harmful than ignoring someone's pain, is all. I've seen the effects of that neglect do terrible things to people." She thought of how she and Harry treated Ron during their time on the run. She remembered how Sirius was left locked in Grimmauld Place. And now she saw a grown Professor Snape, still nursing his wounds decades later and taking his pain out on James' son.

"I think you of all people understand that sometimes those who experience misfortune in life will learn to rise above it. I have the utmost faith in Mr. Snape's ability to heal, both physically and emotionally. I am interested though, in how concerned you are for him. Perhaps you know more about him than I do?"

"I don't know about that," she backpedaled, "I just don't think it's right for someone who nearly died to have no legal recourse."

"You would put your own future on the line for that?" he asked. "That's the price, after all."

"Why couldn't you just make up a rule infraction and tell everyone that was the reason they're being punished? Something similar, but doesn't involve Remus or I?"

Dumbledore looked up at her abruptly. "So you would have me lie?"

Hermione huffed in irritation. "Isn't that better than the alternative?"

"Well that's the question, isn't it? You'll need to make many such decisions in the near future, Miss Granger. I predict they might be _unspeakably_ difficult," he said, waiting to see if that particular word had any effect on her.

 _Lie like a snake. Lie like a snake. Lie like a snake._

"Life after Hogwarts will be difficult, I imagine. But I hope it will consist mostly of decisions like whether I want to eat curry noodles or shepherd's pie for supper, not questions that hang others' lives in the balance."

Dumbledore folded his hands back together. "I suppose we shall see. You've given me much to think on. Perhaps I should take my breakfast in my office to more fully consider it."

She knew a dismissal when she heard one. She went to stand up, but found her legs too shaky to support her, and she collapsed back in the chair.

"I'm sure Mr. Lupin would be more than willing to help you back to the hospital wing," he said, then called towards the door, "If you would be so good, Mr. Lupin?"

Dumbledore flicked his wand at the door and Remus stumbled into the room like he'd been leaning on it. Nodding numbly, he went over to Hermione and wrapped his arm underneath hers, pinning her to his body for support.

Just before she closed the door behind her, Hermione looked back one more time and saw Dumbledore conjure a familiar gold-framed portrait.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so very much for your patience with this story. The last month and a half has been unbelievably difficult for me in terms of my health, but I was finally able to edit this chapter and get it out there.

Please do let me know what you liked best! Or even just a thumbs up. Those are cool too. :)

As always, thank you for reading.


	21. Chapter 21

As soon as the door shut, she pressed her ear to the keyhole, listening for any hint of why _Time's freaking portrait_ showed up on-command in Dumbledore's office.

"Traitorous old curmudgeon," she mumbled after a few seconds of silence. She whipped out her wand and started counteracting whatever soundproofing charms he'd affixed to the door. She had to know.

"Hermione," Remus whispered, gently putting his hand on her shoulder, "I already tried when you were in there. It's hopeless."

For a long minute she stared at the old wooden door as if her frustration alone could pierce the magical barrier. But she let Remus help her up and together they left, questions unanswered.

He held her hand and brushed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles as they walked back to the tower, but Hermione's mind was miles away. She needed to talk to Snape now more than ever. Perhaps she should see if he was in the hospital wing? This incident could be something that pushes him over to the death eaters. If Dumbledore won't offer him protection, maybe Voldemort will, and then all of Hermione's hard work would vanish. Maybe she could sneak the map out of Remus' pocket while he was sleeping or something…

"Hermione, can we talk?"

He had an earnest, slightly hurt look in his eyes. Exhaustion washed over her like a riptide, pulling her under.

"Could it wait?" she asked, barely managing to keep the whine out of her voice.

Remus nervously pulled on his hair. "If we waited, I would talk myself out of asking. I think it's kind of important."

Hermione sighed and looked around for a place to sit down.

A few minutes later, they were in an abandoned alcove. Remus tried sitting next to her, but he got up and started to pace. "You… you like me, right?"

"I thought that was obvious," she said, remembering their kiss in front of all the Gryffindors after the quidditch game.

"Right, I know," he said, wringing his hands together, "You seem really fixated on Snape recently, is all. I wasn't sure if you'd rather- I mean, did I do something wrong?"

"No! You've done nothing wrong, Remus. I promise."

"I thought you might say that. But you spend so much time trying to find Snape, and worrying about him, and probably thinking about him, that I wasn't sure if you'd rather... _be_ with him."

Hermione opened her mouth then closed it, shocked at the conclusion he'd drawn. She knew he'd joked about it before, but she never dreamed Remus seriously worried that she'd pick Snape over him. She might have spent time on him trying to save the future, but she couldn't get around that. Remus had said he understood. Did he really not?

Remus pressed on, oblivious to her inner dialogue. "I get it, of course. Just because you're a werecreature doesn't mean you have to date one. You'd probably rather be with someone who doesn't turn into a monster once a month since you have enough to deal with yourself, but-"

"Remus, there's no one I'd rather date than you," she said, cutting him off and watching his eyes blink in surprise, "but that doesn't mean I can spend all of my free time with you."

"That makes sense. You're an amazing witch, and everyone wants to hang out with you."

"It's not that. Believe me, I wish I didn't have to spend so much time looking for and worrying about Snape, too."

"Has he done something to you? Blackmailed you or something?" she could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure it out, "I'll fight him if he's done anything like that. Prefect badge be damned."

"No, Remus," she said rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand. If she didn't know how important reassuring him was, she might be able to fall asleep sitting down like this. "But I also can't tell you everything. There's stuff going on outside of Hogwarts that I'm wrapped up in, and yes it's dangerous, but I need to fix things on my own. Snape's like… like this awful top secret mission that I hate. If I told you about it, though, both our lives would be in danger."

Remus shook his head. "I don't know why I bother. You really are the worst liar I know, Hermione. But fine, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

"No, Remus, really I-"

"Just promise me one thing?" he said, his face worn and disappointed. Hermione's heart sank.

"Of course," she said, softly.

"If you ever want to end this, this... whatever we have between us, just tell me. Don't string me along, playing bloody cat and mouse with me."

She nodded as he helped her up, not knowing what else to do.

* * *

That night, Hermione was sitting up by the window closest to her bed, wrapped in her blanket. She usually stocked up on dreamless sleep after the full moon since she went to Madam Pomfrey anyway, but with everything that happened in the morning she'd forgotten. Nowadays, it was hard for her to get more than two or three hours of sleep without the potion, so she'd stopped trying. A little voice in the back of her mind told her it wasn't good for her to become so dependent upon the substance, but she was too tired to care.

"Hermione?" a soft voice whispered from the other side of the room. Hermione turned around and saw Dorcas tip-toeing over, her own blanket dragging on the ground behind her.

"Couldn't sleep," Hermione said by way of explanation, not looking Dorcas in the face. She had a remarkable way of reading the truth on someone's face, and Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know what Dorcas could see on hers. Sometimes, she wondered how Luna, who was the spitting image of Pandora, seemed to get so much of her personality from Dorcas.

"My Mum sometimes makes me hot chocolate with cinnamon when I can't sleep. I have a mix in my trunk if you'd like."

"That's alright, but thank you."

"I know, you've gotten used to Madame Pomfrey's potion, but you might be surprised with how well cinnamon works to get rid of nightmares. It's quite gentle on your stomach, too."

Hermione didn't bother asking how Dorcas knew she had nightmares.

"Sure, I'll try it, if you really don't mind sharing."

The two girls sat with one knee touching, both looking out the window as it fogged up with the steam from their mugs. Dorcas reached out a finger and began to doodle on the pane, and it reminded Hermione of the time Luna showed her what she thought wizarding fashion trends would look like in the future.

"Dorcas? Can you see the future?" Dorcas tilted her head to the side, and Hermione looked down, uncomfortable even asking. "I know you say you can see time mites, so I wasn't sure if you could see the future, too."

"You never struck me as someone who put much faith in divination, Hermione."

She snorted. That was an understatement. "No, I really don't. But there's something important going on. I just really needed to know if everything is going to be ok."

Dorcas sighed. "I don't like to look at anyone's personal timeline. Sometimes I see something I wish I hadn't, and sometimes I get anxious for them when it'll change soon anyway. It's not a very exact way of knowing the world."

"Right, but if you wanted to, you could look? You could look and tell me what's in the future for, say, Lily?"

"Do you want to talk about something, Hermione?"

Hermione clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. "I just need to know."

"If it means that much to you, I can check. I haven't looked at anyone's personal timelines in years. They all were looking so dark. But give me a second, and I'll see what I can see."

Hermione waited while Dorcas closed her eyes and bowed her head. From the outside it didn't look like much was happening, but Dorcas visibly twitched and gasped.

"What?" Hermione asked, "What do you see?"

Dorcas pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head over and over again. Hermione could see the whites of her knuckles where she was clutching her blanket.

"Dorcas!" she whisper shouted, shaking her shoulders to pull her out of whatever horrible vision of the future she was seeing.

Dorcas gasped as her eyes flew open. Her hands were shaking.

"Dorcas I'm so sorry, I should never have asked you to look. I'm so sorry."

"Her lifeline was so short," Dorcas whispered, wrapping her arms around her knees and squeezing them tightly, "I've never seen anyone's lifeline that short.

Hermione pulled Dorcas into a tight hug, feeling awful. No possible knowledge of the future was worth this. She hadn't expected anyone to be dying soon, but all of a sudden, Time's words floated back to her- " _you have so many friends. I'm sure you would do_ everything _to protect them._ "

Had that been a threat Time would really follow through on?

"I didn't understand anything. There were three of her. I don't know… One was lit up with a green light in what looked like a hallway, one was hovering above the Great Lake, and one was in a pool of blood in the courtyard and they all... she just… _died,"_ she said, her voice breaking on the last word before she dissolved into sobs.

* * *

Three days later, on Saturday, the Gryffindor girls were holed up in their room planning the final stages of their prank. They'd never gotten back at the boys for the fizzy lifting incident, but they'd been biding their time. Hermione had been brewing some polyjuice, and today it would finally be ready.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Alice said, grinning widely as she watched Hermione add the last ingredient.

"They're going to wet themselves, they are," Marlene said.

"Ok," Hermione said, stirring the cauldron the final three times counterclockwise, "It's done."

"I still think we should all take one to look like Lily," Mary said, grumbling from behind her book.

"But we already decided," Dorcas said, eyeing Hermione. They'd all argued over the past three days to keep Lily out of the prank. Actually, they'd argued over the past three days to keep Lily away from anything potentially dangerous: they'd kept her out of the courtyard, away from sharp objects, and certainly away from the Great Lake. She'd been getting steadily more exasperated when they didn't want her to take part in the prank, until Dorcas had come up with a brilliant piece of reasoning. She reminded Mary of that now, saying, "If Potter sees two Lily's he's more likely to be turned on than scared."

"Ew, can we not talk about Potter's secret fantasies about me?" Lily said, shuddering.

Mary still wasn't sure. "But with two Hermiones, wouldn't Remus-"

"Remus isn't like that," Hermione interrupted, her cheeks burning.

"Mary, knock it off. Dorcas convinced us all and you got out-voted," Marlene said, "We need to get ready. Hermione needs to meet the boys in twenty minutes, and Alice needs to drink up."

Hermione plucked one of her hairs out and dropped it into the cauldron, and they all watched it bubble and froth. Alice took a cupful and, after a deep breath, knocked it back. Immediately, her short hair started to grow out and curl like a real-life Medusa. Her arms and legs outgrew her robes by a few inches, and she nearly choked on her necklace, which started to constrict around her neck.

"Shit," Alice's voice choked out from Hermione's voice. She reached behind her neck and unclasped the winding gold. She took a few coughing breaths before explaining. "I enchanted this packwood vine to look gold and to strangle anyone else who tried to wear it. Guess the spell gets confused by polyjuice."

Hermione handed her one of her own robes to change into, and realized only too late that in order for Alice to get into her robe, she'd also have to take off the one she was currently wearing. All the girls sucked in a gasp when the scar on her forearm was revealed.

"What the hell, Hermione?" Marlene whispered, horrified.

Lily looked back and forth between the real Hermione and Alice in polyjuice. "Is that real?

Hermione, figuring the cat was now out of the bag, rolled up her own sleeve to show the matching curse word. "Some people really don't like muggles," she said, hoping they would accept the vague answer.

Alice traiced the letters that had sprouted from her arm red and angry, and she winced, a misty look gathering in her eye. "I had no idea," she said, "I mean, people call Marlene and Lily names, but I didn't know people hated muggles _this_ much."

She crossed the little circle to wrap Hermione up in a hug. Hermione, taken aback, took a second to return the hug. When she did, a familiar warmth bloomed in her chest. It seemed like Neville would get his mother's knack for giving great hugs, eventually.

"This is all very touching, but that polyjuice is going to run out in 52 minutes and counting," Mary said, pulling herself up off the bed and out the door.

The remaining five girls looked at each other. However careless she'd said it, Mary was right. Alice/Hermione pulled the borrowed robe on over the scar, the moment broken, and they all went to take up their respective positions, somewhat less excited about the prank.

Hermione's job was to distract the boys down by the lake. Hermione was supposed to try and convince the boys she discovered a spell that made bilocation possible, then hopefully trade the spell for something interesting. When they asked for proof, she'd snap her fingers high in the air, and Alice/Hermione would yell out a window from inside the castle where she'd been watching. While their attention was focused on the castle, the remaining four roommates would immobilize the boys and… well, Hermione hadn't asked for clarification on what Marlene was planning for that part.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work.

"I'd give my left hand for a spell like that," Peter said. "Can you imagine? Our doppelgangers could study and take our tests for us and everything."

Hermione had completed her end of the bargain, and was just watching them dream up uses for the spell until they asked to see the it in action. While she waited, she watched Remus. He said nothing, but looked intently at her. She suspected he knew she was playing them, but he hadn't quite figured out how or why. He was sitting cross-legged next to her, but it felt like there was an ocean between them. When she reached her hand out to him, he didn't grab it.

"Or they could pull the pranks and when they were about to be caught- disappear!" James said, oblivious to the tension between his mate and his mate's girl. He'd gone into full planning mode.

"Let's see it first," Sirius said. "I can't imagine you're just dangling this in front of us without something up your sleeve."

"You asked for it," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "but I expect payment once you've seen proof."

Hermione snapped her fingers in the air, high enough for Alice to see from her lookout point, but she didn't appear in the window.

Several seconds passed in silence before Sirius began to snicker. "Something wrong with your 'spell,' Kitten?"

Hermione sent him a dark look before snapping her fingers again, over-exaggerating the motion so it couldn't be mistaken as anything but a snap.

That was when they heard the scream coming from the courtyard. Hermione tensed up, pulling her wand out into a fighting stance, but then froze when she looked up. There, in the sky above the courtyard, was a dark mark.

* * *

A/N: *hides under a blanket* I'm sorry! It had to be done!

Thanks to my roomie for beta-ing this chapter. :) Also, can I take a second to thank you all? I feel like I do this every chapter, but I'm so grateful to everyone who's read. This story's now officially a year old, and despite everything, I'm still writing it. It's also the longest thing I've ever written and I'm damn happy with it, despite its flaws. I wouldn't still be writing without all the support from my readers, so consider yourself high-fived, hugged, or saluted, whichever your preference. You all wrock.


	22. Chapter 22

The next three days passed by in a blur.

Hermione remembered running, _sprinting_ across the field to the courtyard to find herself kneeling in a pool of blood. Technically, her blood. Remus was screaming, trying to figure out which Hermione was real, which one was dying. Hermione could only hear it faintly, like someone yelling underwater. A professor in her peripheral vision was trying to clear away the smoke from the dark mark, and others were chasing someone in a inky black cloak towards the Forbidden Forest.

Then there were the endless hours in the hospital wing. The strong scent of antiseptic started to cling to their clothes the longer they sat by Alice's bed, waiting for the blood-replenishing potions to work. Madame Pomfrey's anxious face came and went, as did professors and other curious students. None stayed but the Gryffindors in her year. They took turns sleeping in empty cots, unwilling to leave her to fight alone. They wiped the feverish sweat from her face and held her hand when she convulsed. Even Dumbledore wasn't sure what spell had caused so much bleeding and damage to Alice's small body.

Hermione had a hunch. It didn't help that Severus Snape wasn't accounted for at dinner that night.

When Alice's parents came to take her away, her roommates and friends were allowed a few moments to say goodbye. Everyone knew the experimental medical magic wing at St. Mungo's was a last resort. Mr. and Mrs. Brown had been told to prepare themselves.

Hermione had seen brave Gryffindors face down a war before, but these were innocent Gryffindors who, for the most part, hadn't seen anything worse than a curse or jinx in the corridors. This was how it was supposed to be for teenagers, Hermione reminded herself. If circumstances were different, they were young people who might not see death for years to come.

And yet, despite mortality staring them in the face, they were still Gryffindors. Peter was sniffling loudly but refused a handkerchief. Sirius and James were clenching their jaws so tight they looked pained. Mary, Dorcas, and Marlene were clinging to each other, the sleeves of their robes damp with stray tears. Hermione allowed Remus to grasp her hand; it seemed like he needed something to hold onto. Only Lily, Alice's best friend, was crying openly. She was sitting by Alice's bedside, stroking the back of her pale hand gently.

As the guilt crashed over Hermione in waves, ( _your fault, your fault_ ) she felt the need to give Alice something, a peace offering of sorts. She conjured a purple hyacinth flower, something Alice had been helping her grow in the 'muggle plant' section of the greenhouse, and laid it beside her body on the cot. _I'm so sorry,_ she thought as the medi-witch took her away on a levitating stretcher.

McGonagall visited early the next morning, before any of them had gone down to breakfast. They'd stayed up all night in the common room waiting, holding on to each other. They knew it was coming, but seeing McGonagall shake her head and watching her tremble ever so slightly was something they could never be prepared for.

 _Your fault Your fault Your fault_ churned through Hermione's mind like a steam engine.

Hermione got up off the couch abruptly and left the room, not thinking about where she was going, only that she had to get away.

Neville's sweet face, the first face that made her feel welcome on her first Hogwart's Express ride, would never be born. He'd never lose his toad, never take Ginny to the ball, never grow up to be as brave as his parents, never learn about herbology. Hermione would never see him again.

Her eyes stung with tears she refused to let fall until she was alone, so she started running up flights of stairs, searching for the seventh corridor through her blurred vision. She only met a few students in her path, but all of them quickly got out of her way. The humiliation made her run faster.

When she found the door to the Room of Requirement, she didn't know exactly what she needed. The Burrow? The tent she'd shared with Ron and Harry? But she was exhausted from running and holding the tears back, so she let the room decide.

She opened the door gingerly and was greeted with a whiff of parchment and ink. She closed her eyes as she took a step into the room. She could feel warm sunlight on her face coming through a slightly-opened window, and she could hear the scuttling of various creatures in their cages and tanks. She kept her eyes closed only for a moment more, fearing that if she opened them the comforting scene would disappear, but Professor Lupin's office remained when she opened them. She patted the door frame in a gesture of thanks to the Room as the tears started to run down her cheeks. It always knew what she needed.

 _Alice was dead,_ she repeated to herself over and over, as if the repetition would make it seem more real. Clearly, Hermione had been the target of the curse, but Alice paid the price. Beautiful, silly Alice who wanted to become a herbologist and discover unknown, magical plants in Costa Rica and save the world with soil and worms and seeds. Alice, whose plants in their shared room were going to die, just like she had.

Hermione felt an even deeper, gnawing guilt from the relief she felt that they'd talked Lily out of taking the polyjuice potion. So far, Harry would still be born. As much as she would miss Neville, Hermione would really never be able to forgive herself if anything happened to James or Lily, and therefore her best friend.

Even worse, though, was that Snape was gone. She'd failed to prevent his joining Voldemort, and she'd somehow angered him enough that he attempted to kill her. Maybe it was because he knew she was a werecat now. Maybe she'd nagged him into a homicidal rage.

An icy fear ran down Hermione's spine as she then realized the implications of Snape choosing Voldemort's side. She'd only been sent here for one reason. With Snape gone, Time could just send her back to the future, where she'd probably be mauled by that werecat in the Wizarding Gladiatorial Melee. Either that, or she could be snatched up and dropped into nothingness, never having existed at all. She sagged even deeper into the couch, waiting for death. Somehow, the thought of being dead made her a little less sad about Alice having died.

Then the door opened.

"What the- ?" Remus' voice muttered, "This is not on the map. How is this not on the map?"

Hermione pressed her face into the couch cushion, hoping against hope that he would just turn around and walk back out the door without noticing her.

"Hermione?" Remus called, his voice taking on a cautious, don't-poke-the-bear tone. "Hermione, are you in here?"

Hermione sighed and raised her hand for him to see from the other side of the couch.

She heard him shuffling until he came and sat down on the edge. "Hey."

"Hey," she said with her face still pressed downward.

She felt Remus' hand rest on her leg. "You scared me. All of a sudden, you weren't on the map. Everyone who's alive at Hogwarts is on the Map, and you can't just apparate out, so I thought…"

Hermione jolted into a sitting position, face to face with his anguish. "Oh Remus, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I just needed some space."

"It was weird," Remus said, looking down at his hands, "this place isn't on the Map. But when I was looking for you, there was this highlighted set of footsteps, like it was leading me to you. And then they stopped in the middle of the hallway, and this door appeared out of nowhere-"

"It's called the Room of Requirement," Hermione said, happy to have some facts to cling to, "Also known as the 'come and go' room. It's unplottable on the map, and it only appears when someone has a true need of it. It can be whatever you need it to be. I've seen it as a dueling space, a room full of junk, and even a small city of hammocks and beds."

"How do you know all that? Is this where you hide when you're looking for Snape?"

Hermione looked at Remus carefully. The morning sunlight almost made his scars disappear, and his blond hair was longer and shaggier than it ever had been when he was a professor. And yet even though he looked so much younger, this was still his room. She remembered how many times during her third year, stressed from all her classes and hurt from the constant fights with Ron, she'd come to him for a cup of tea and a talk. Professor Lupin always knew what to say to make the sting of rejection hurt less, or the stress seem more manageable.

Hermione realized that if she was going to die, or be unmade into a paradox, or whatever, she needed one Remus Lupin to know the truth.

"I actually haven't been here much this year. But I used this room a lot the last time I came to Hogwarts."

"You're not making any sense, Hermione."

"Remus. I need you to believe me, even though it sounds crazy. I was a student at Hogwarts from 1991 to 1997. I know this castle like the back of my hand because I fought a war in it, and-"

"Hermione, please, you're an awful liar," he said, his face twisting in pain, "You can tell everyone else that but not me. Please. Not to me."

"I'm not," she said gripping the couch in frustration, "I'll do anything to prove it." There was a popping sound behind her and all of a sudden, a small vial of clear liquid was on the desk.

"Veritaserum," he read from the label. "The truth-telling potion?"

"Let me take it. Then you'll know I'm telling the truth," Hermione said, reaching for the vial and thanking the Room in her head. No matter what he asked, she'd answer. She had nothing left to lose.

"No way," Remus said, holding it above his head out of reach, "You have no idea what this potion could be. Just because it's labelled Veritaserum doesn't mean it is. I'll take some first." And before Hermione could protest, he took a small swig.

"Ask me something," he demanded.

She asked the first thing that popped into her head. "Why did you just take the potion when you didn't know if it was dangerous or not either?"

Remus put his hand over his mouth, but the potion made the words come out anyways, muffled. "Because I need to protect you, always, even if it's from myself."

Hermione leaned back into the couch, her mouth opening in surprise.

"That's veritaserum, alright," Remus said, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Ok, give it here," she said, recovering. Thinking about Remus' feelings for her would only make her death harder. As long as he knew the whole truth, he could understand why she was leaving. The vial clanked against her teeth as she knocked back the whole thing.

"First question," Remus said, settling into the corner of the couch, facing her, "How do you really know about this room?"

"Everything I told you was true. I came to school in the nineties, and I used it a lot then."

Remus was silent for a minute, his brows knitting together. "How?"

"The simple answer is that I used a time-turner," she said, thinking that'd be enough to satisfy the veritaserum, but more words kept bubbling out. "We just lost the second wizarding war, and I was sent back to change that outcome, and now that Severus is gone I've failed, and it's going to happen all over again, and I'm probably going to die because I couldn't change anything."

"If you weren't plastered with veritaserum, I wouldn't believe a word of it, never mind understand it. You think you're going to die? Because Snape is bad? That doesn't make any sense. If your life was tied to his goodness, wouldn't you have died three days ago, when he actually went 'bad?'"

Hermione hadn't thought of that.

Remus continued. "So that's why you've been stalking Snape? You tried to make him a good guy?"

"Essentially, yes," she said, smoothing her hair, trying to calm the jittery feeling the potion gave her until she told the whole truth. "He's apparently the reason everything went wrong for our side in the war, and now he's gone and ruined everything."

Remus leaned back, tugging on his shaggy blond hair. "I still can't believe it. So you're not really a muggleborn who lost her family in that muggle mall attack? Is your name really Hermione?"

"Yes, that's my real name, and yes, I am a muggleborn," Hermione said earnestly, trying to make him understand, "My parents were both dentists before I obliviated them and sent them to Australia before the war got really bad. I don't have a family anymore, either here or there."

Remus frowned, but stayed on his side of the couch. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Please keep asking questions," she said, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn't expected how hard telling the truth would be. "If you're wrong, I don't know how much time I have left, and I need someone to know my whole story."

"Tell me something true. Anything."

The veritaserum chose for her. "When I was in third year, you, Professor Lupin, made us all face a boggart for our final exam. And mine was Professor McGonagall telling me I failed all my exams."

Remus' eyes lit up. "I get to be a professor in the future? What about…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. But Hermione knew what he was asking.

"Professor Dumbledore kept your being a werewolf a secret. You were everyone's favorite professor that year."

"What... what am I like in the future?"

She looked down. "I was surprised when I first met this you because you're both so different. I mean, you're still kind and warm, but I think the first war changed you. You looked so, so much older than your thirties then, and you were jaded. I didn't believe it when Harry said you were a prankster in school. I couldn't imagine you laughing or having fun."

"Who's Harry?"

Hermione smiled to herself, glad that she could finally share this secret. "Harry James Potter. My best friend."

"Potter?" he said, "Who's his mother? Do I know her?"

Her grin grew wider. "It's Lily, of course."

"Merlin, he does get her in the end!" he said, nearly bouncing on the couch, "That's fantastic! What about the others? Did you know-"

"No!" Hermione said quickly, covering his mouth with her hand. She held it there for a beat, feeling his breath on her fingers, until she was sure he wouldn't finish his sentence. "Remus, don't ask about the others. Most of the people I know here and now at Hogwarts are dead. Those who aren't are in Azkaban or permanently in St. Mungo's."

Remus froze. "Dead?"

"Mostly, yeah," she said.

"And if I know, it might change history or something?"

"History's already changed, but yes. It'll get worse, I think, if I say specifically who died, because you'll want to change history and you can't try and change _everything_."

"What do you mean it's already changed?"

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. She'd almost forgotten why she'd come to the Room in the first place. "One of my other friends in Gryffindor was a boy named Neville Longbottom, only son of Frank and… and Alice."

"Alice? Like Alice…" Remus trailed off, catching on when he noticed fresh tears already slipping down her cheek. "Oh, Hermione."

Remus pulled her into a hug, threading his fingers through her thick hair over and over. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, Hermione tried to compose herself and give him some space, but Remus shushed her and gently tucked her head under his chin. That's when she truly broke down.

They stayed there for hours, grieving together and alternately telling stories about Alice or Neville while the veritaserum wore off. Remus held her the whole time, tracing patterns over the three intersecting line scar just above her heart for much of it. Eventually, as the fake sun was setting, Hermione began to nod off. She felt safe and warm, and right before she fell asleep, she thought that if Remus was wrong and she was going to die, dying in his arms might not be a bad way to go.

* * *

A/N: Please forgive me. I've been planning this chapter since the beginning, but it didn't make it any easier to write. I love Alice and I love Neville, but it had to be this way.

And hey! Just hit 500 followers! Huzzah! Thanks, everybody!

Also, lovelovelove to those who left comments and input last chapter. I'm feeling a little shaky on this one (is it too dark? I've been in a dark place recently so I can't quite tell), so please leave concrit in addition to the things you did like.

Thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

Wherever Hermione was, it was too bright.

She squinted against the light, trying to see if there was an up or down in this place. Everything was the same blinding shade of white, even though the light wasn't coming from any one direction. She didn't even have a shadow.

"Oh right," a creaky voice said from behind her, "Forgot you're Miss 'Shit-for-imagination.'"

In the blink of an eye, the brightness in the room mellowed a bit. Everything was still shades of white or light pastel, but there were now four defined walls and a floor. Hermione felt like she was in a seaside cottage; everything was made of weathered, painted wood, and various seashells decorated the mantle above where an old crone stood.

"Long time no see!" the crone said, waving her cane maniacally in the air. When she met with Hermione's blank stare, the crone scowled, then transformed into a young woman about her age. "Am I that forgettable?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed, slowly remembering the last time she'd met this shapeshifting woman. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palms, trying to control the anger that started coursing through her veins. "You're Time. You killed my friend."

"You're upset about that?" Time asked, shaking like a dog and changing her form back into the crone. "Upset at poor, innocent me?"

"She was my friend, and you killed her!" Hermione said, advancing. "She did nothing to you! It's me you should be punishing. I'm the one who failed."

"Punish you? More like thank you! You've done splendidly, Granger."

Hermione took another step closer. "You can't trick me into taking the blame for this. Alice dying wasn't an accident, and I know you're responsible for it."

The crone walked over to a weathered rocking chair and sat down. "You really have no idea what you're doing, even when you're doing well, huh?"

Hermione stopped mid-step. "Doing well?"

The girl shook herself into the middle-aged punk rocker, who flipped her spiky hair carelessly over her shoulder. "I don't often give someone an 'atta-girl,' so don't think I'll say it twice. But yes. After our last conversation, I was convinced you'd screw it up, yet you managed to surprise me. You figured it out after all, then?"

"No, I couldn't convince Snape not to turn. He killed someone and works for Voldemort now. I failed."

"No, you haven't failed. The old coot you were sent to change is already altering the course of history for the better."

"Old coot?"

"Yes. I can't tell you how to change history, only when you're wrong or right. Before you were wrong. Now, you're right."

"But I haven't done anything! Snape murdered Alice- "

"And that's exactly what old baggypants needed to start changing. Death does strange things to people, and I'm glad you chose that route, intentionally or not. Very devious."

"You're not making any sense! Who changed their mind?"

The woman shook and was the beautiful young woman again. She took on a soft, cultured voice. "' _Sometimes it's better to let small injustices slide so that worse things don't happen._ ' Remember that? Those were his words. And now, he's starting to know better. Might take him a while to get the full picture, but with a little more pushing from you, he'll get straightened out."

 _Dumbledore._

"Dumbledore is the one who killed magical Time? He's the reason I got flung back to try and change things?"

"Right in one!" Time said, gleefully rocking back and forth in the chair.

"But how can it be Dumbledore? In Lord Abram's book, you said, and I quote, ' _There's always one idiot who tips the scales from My being salvageable to past the point of no return. It's usually a young bloke, one who feels like he has nothing left to lose_.'"

"... _or else he's drunk on power and thinks he's doing the right thing_ ," Time said, quoting the end of the sentence Hermione hadn't managed to remember, since she'd been convinced Snape was the culprit. "Sound like anyone you know?"

Hermione hated admitting she was wrong, so instead she asked, "What do you mean Alice's death changed his mind?"

Time rolled her eyes at her change in topic, but went along with it. "Do you remember that little club he had?"

"You mean the Order of the Phoenix? Of course."

"Well in your original timeline, he didn't form it for a few more years. He'd figured if Tom could be appeased, if he just _let a few injustices slide_ , the dark wizard wouldn't grow too dangerous. But Ol' Dumbles waited too long, and Tom became too powerful. Now he's seen death up close and personal, far sooner than he did before. He sees what kind of casualties come from letting injustice slide."

"So what? Now that he's forming the Order early, you're safe? Magical Time isn't going down a dead-end anymore?"

"Technically, no."

Hermione gave her a side-eyed glance. "What do you mean, _technically_?"

"Well, we're in uncharted territory, you and I! This timeline has never existed before, and anything could happen," she said, transforming back into the old crone and laughing. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"I guess," Hermione said, her mind flicking to Alice the moment her lips started to quirk up in a smile. She frowned instead. It seemed wrong to be excited when Alice was dead.

"So keep it up!" Time said. Hermione could only see her general outline now, blurring through the hint of an unshed tear. Time, however, was oblivious to her melancholy. "Dumbles is on the right track, but you need to keep him on the straight and narrow. It wouldn't do for all your hard work to go kersplat."

Hermione nodded, looking down.

Time was silent for a moment, then Hermione saw her moving a few steps closer. She looked up to see Time gazing at her intently. "I've never had the misfortune of having a friend," the crone said before shaking herself into the young woman, "They seem a messy business, what with them inevitably leaving you or dying on you or some such nonsense."

Hermione snorted. "I'm sure even if you decided you'd like one, no one would choose to be your friend. What with the bossing around and bitching at them or some such nonsense."

Time grinned. "If I decided to have a friend, I'm sure I'd like one like yourself. Even if you've got shit for imagination."

Time extended a hand to Hermione, but before Hermione could even turn up her nose at it, the young woman retracted her hand, yelling, "Psych!" and gloating.

It was then that everything around Hermione started to look fuzzy and ill-defined. She breathed a sigh of relief when, a few blinks later, she was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

"Bitch," Hermione mumbled, rolling over and going back to sleep.

* * *

The Hogwarts Board of Directors postponed OWLs for all of Alice's classmates until the following autumn, so the fifth years went on vacation a week early. A few students, including Peter, were called home early (Hermione still felt that Peter not staying was suspicious), but most stayed to take advantage of a week at Hogwarts without classes or tests. Hermione somehow continued to be the substitute teacher for DADA and had exams to administer, but she was grateful for them. She needed to keep busy to avoid thinking about Alice too much.

When there were no more exams to proctor or grade, or NEWTs of her own to take, Hermione spent time in the Hogwarts library reading books she never got to as a student. Her reading habits took her deep into the forgotten stacks of the forbidden section, where no spell she knew could completely remove all the dust or cobwebs. It was there, hiding in a place where no sunlight reached, that she discovered it.

"I thought I found all the books about werewolves when I was a student the first time," she said, showing Remus while they sat on a couch in Professor Lupin's office in the Room of Requirement one afternoon. "But this one was new to me."

" _The Haunts and Habits of the Werewolf,_ " Remus said, reading the cover. "Sounds like every other prejudiced piece of trash."

"That's what I thought at first too, but look here." She flipped to the center of the book, where a black and white painting of a wolf mid-transformation popped off the page. "See? The werewolf is holding a wand. No one bent on portraying werewolves poorly would include that."

Hermione flipped the page again, to show a moving photograph of a werewolf pack, similar to what Greyback's gang looked like. They were disheveled, wearing loose layers of clothes that didn't match and no shoes. They had cuts and scrapes everywhere, and some were pretty disfigured. But unlike Greyback's gang, they all held wands. "The caption reads, ' _One of the last magical werepacks_.' Do you know what that's referencing? Magical werepack?"

"I try to avoid reading anything about werewolves, Hermione. They never have anything decent to say."

She nodded. "That's usually true. But I think I may be onto something here. Look closer."

Remus did, and Hermione heard all the air rush out of his lungs when he saw it. Every member of the werepack was branded with a symbol she'd become very familiar with: three intersecting lines. He pulled up his sleeve to compare the image on his bicep with the ones in the book, just like Hermione had done with her own scar just above her heart. It was a match.

Remus pulled the book into his lap, reading over what little information the page offered. " _Hunted to extinction, a subcategory of werewolf that also possessed magical abilities was the most feared in Europe for hundreds of years. The combination of their wizard and creature magic made them too dangerous to endure_." He looked up at her. "This must be why werewolves aren't allowed to attend magical schools or carry wands."

"But why are Sirius and James part of it, even though they're not werecreatures? And why did Dumbledore risk something like this and let us come to Hogwarts?"

Remus didn't have any answers for her, and for a while, the only sounds in the office were pages of books on Professor Lupin's desk fluttering in the wind coming in from the open window. Remus pulled out his wand and began to trace the length of it lightly with his finger. "I never thought I'd get one of these," he confessed in a quiet voice. "I wanted to be an auror when I was little, but my father told me I'd just have to make it as a laborer or go out and live with the muggles. There was no place for a werewolf in the Ministry, I learned. He was just trying to protect me."

"Trying to protect you by crushing your dreams?" Hermione said, upset on his behalf. "You were just a kid!"

"A kid who needed to know how the real world worked," Remus corrected. "Werewolves aren't supposed to get wands or go to Hogwarts. When Dumbledore came to my house and asked if I'd like to go, secretly, I thought I was dreaming."

Hermione lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. "You deserve so much more than a clandestine education, Remus Lupin. You deserve to go to the best schools in the world, get a top-notch apprenticeship and earn a six a figure salary. It just isn't fair."

Remus shrugged. He'd resigned himself to his lot in life long ago, Hermione could see. "I always thought it was just because everyone was afraid we'd infect the other students, and that's why we weren't allowed at Hogwarts. But this?" he said, pointing to the book, "this makes more sense. We could become too powerful."

"I wonder what that means, exactly. Too powerful in what way?"

A slow smile spread across Remus' face. "There's only one way to find out."

* * *

"Just to be perfectly clear," Lily said, hiding partially behind a giant rock with her arms crossed tightly, "I won't be held responsible for any of your injuries."

She'd taken the news of her friends being werecreatures surprisingly well. Like Hermione herself, Lily had been so shocked to discover magic existed as an eleven year old that nothing about the wizarding world ever surprised her. She'd hugged both Remus and Hermione tightly, asked a few questions about how to help make their 'time of the month' easier, and then offered to help however she could.

"This was not my idea of helping!" she called out again. Remus, Sirius, James, and Hermione laughed from their spot sitting in the grass, waiting for the next in a long line of tests.

"Just one more theory," Sirius promised, "and then we'll give it a rest."

"We can't just give up!" Hermione said, unwilling to take a break despite her fatigue, "There has _got_ to be a reasonable explanation."

When Remus had explained the concept of a werepack to James and Sirius, the two boys offered a dozen suggestions of what 'too powerful and dangerous to endure' might have meant. So far, they'd been able to scratch out super speed, super strength, and flying. The last one particularly bothered James, who kept going on about how cool it would have been to be a flying stag.

James now positioned his wand at the ready. "On my mark. One, two-"

"Stupefy!" Lily shouted, and the duel began. Since a four-on-one test of the werepack's defensive abilities wouldn't be remotely fair, the four on Hermione's side were sitting blindfolded, allowed to cast only defensive spells while Lily hurtled anything she could think of at them.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione heard three wands sail out of the air straight towards Lily, leaving the wand in her hand her the only one left. Sirius and James groaned.

This time, Hermione heard a spell positively crackling from Lily's wand. She'd heard the same noise a few times before, when Lily was truly pissed at James and was sending her most powerful hex his way. Hastily, Hermione tried to throw up some sort of shielding charm, and felt the other three doing the same as best they could while wandless. Knowing it wouldn't be enough, Hermione braced for the spell to hit, but instead a low, booming sound came when Lily's hex ricocheted off...something.

She pulled the blindfold off her head, and her eyebrows shot up at what she saw. Thick as glass, there was a clear, dome-like structure surrounding the four of them in all directions. She reached up to touch it, and it moved back to make way for her, making the whole dome jiggle slightly like jello.

"Woah," she breathed.

Through the view of the distorted dome, she could see Lily walking cautiously towards them as the boys stood to join her in marvelling at the...whatever it was.

"Check this out!" Sirius said, walking away from the three of them. The dome stretched like taffy to keep him inside, despite his distance away.

"How do we get out, exactly?" James wondered aloud as he started to throw spells at the dome. All of them sailed through as if the dome didn't exist, however, and they landed on the trees nearby. Lily tried shooting another hex at the four of them, but it bounced off without any spellwork on their part. The dome held up without any conscious effort at all.

Hermione looked at Remus, who was staring intently at the barrier. "If this is really because we're a werepack, and not because of any shielding charm we used, how do we turn it off?" he asked.

"It formed when we were in danger," Hermione said, "Maybe it responds to wolf logic."

"Wolves don't have logic," he countered, "they have emotions. Instincts." Without warning, he lunged a hand out towards Lily and grabbed her wand from her hand. And just like that, when the 'danger' had passed, the dome disintegrated like a burned up piece of paper.

"That," Sirius said after a beat of silence, "was really, really weird.


	24. PART TWO- Chapter 1

A tea kettle whistled from atop its place on the magical wood stove in the small, Scottish cottage. The steam rose up, fogging the windowpane and making it difficult to see the wide expanse of moorland outside. Still, sounds filtered through chinks in the brickwork, and Hermione knew behind a wooden fence was a flock of grazing sheep, bleating contentedly in the warm, June sunshine.

The inside of the cottage was just as wild as the fields outside: there were bunches of herbs drying on wire that criss-crossed the ceiling of the kitchen, a grouse in the oven which filled the home with the pleasant scent of thyme, and a bouquet of fresh lavender sprigs brightening up the living room where she and Minerva took their tea.

"Are you quite sure it's what you want, dear?" Minerva asked, spooning two cubes of sugar into Hermione's second cup.

Hermione took a long sip before answering. "I'm not sure there are any other options. I don't have any stable housing at the moment. My N.E.W.T. scores won't come in for another month, so I can't get a job or apprenticeship or anything. Plus, I don't have any family to live with, either."

"There's always Hogwarts. We could find a way for you to do an independent study for the summer until your scores come in."

"Honestly," Hermione said with a slight shudder, "I don't want to spend any more time around Albus Dumbledore than I have to. I'm afraid that if I interact with him too much, I'll undo all the work I did to fix the dead end."

"I just worry for you." Minerva was curled up in a well-loved armchair that seemed to swallow her whole. Hermione had always seen Minerva sitting bolt upright with her ankles crossed like the Queen of England and was surprised to see how relaxed and at home the woman looked in the chair that could have been nicked from the Gryffindor common room. With the sunshine beating down on her, Hermione thought her professor had never looked more like her animagus self.

Minerva gazed at Hermione intently before gently prompting, "Those aren't your main motivations though, are they?"

"No," Hermione said, "they're not. I feel… responsible. Why else would Time have sent me back if she didn't think I could fix the war?"

"Time is a selfish beast, you know that. She only expected you to correct the problem that led to her dead end. From what you've told me, Dumbledore is seeing the error of his ways, and Time sounded appeased. You've done everything that was necessary. I fail to see how the outcome of a war falls on the shoulders of a nineteen year old girl."

"I've seen that responsibility placed on those younger than I am now," she said, thinking back to fifth year when Harry heard that bloody prophecy saying he was the only one who could kill Voldemort. "In any case, I know more than anyone about these matters. Plus, you said months ago that you informed Albus about the horcruxes, and so far he's done nothing!"

"You can't know that for certain. Firstly, because it would have been awful suspicious for me to just turn over a list of known horcruxes created by Voldemort, so I could only hint at the possibility. It's possible his brilliant mind hasn't managed to connect all the dots, yet. And even if he has, he hasn't told me. Albus likes his secrets; he doles out juicy tidbits at just the right moment in exchange for information, or else to gain trust. Some days I think the bloody man should have been a Slytherin."

Hermione munched on a chocolate biscuit and thought that over. Dumbledore might be good at long-term plans and cultivating people as assets, but he was no war general. She just had to look at the outcome of the last war she'd fought to see that.

Thought she felt as though she ought to be, she wasn't really bothered by the prospect of actively fighting another war. She'd been doing it, to one degree or another, for most of her life in the wizarding world. She was good at it. She could fight, and well. Now, with the prospect of a sweet shield courtesy of her new pack, she felt confident that she could wrap up horcrux hunting in a month, given some persistence. A small part of her whispered about the pleasures of just lying on her back in the sunshine with the sheep outside, but Hermione had learned to silence that wistful part long ago. Those kind of desires only complicated her mission.

Hermione came out of her reverie to notice Minerva wringing her hands, showing the first hint of uncertainty Hermione could ever remember from her. When she noticed Hermione staring, she said, "I wasn't sure whether or not to bring this up, but I'd curse myself forever if I didn't offer and something happened to you."

Hermione tilted her head in a way that was curiously like her wereself. "What would that be?"

"You could always stay here with me," she said, trying not to look too earnest. "I'm not at all familiar with what it's like to have a child of one's own, but I've come to think of you like a d- well, like family."

"But you've been the Head of Gryffindor for Merlin knows how many years. I can't be any different than any other student you've had."

"As a student, perhaps not, though you are singularly gifted. But when you dropped onto the quidditch pitch wearing _my_ time turner, that changed things. Traditionally, a witch in my family would only pass that heirloom on to her own daughter. Since then, you've been much more than a student to me, and as such, I have to ask if you'd reconsider this adventure." Her face showed all the lines Hermione remembered from her face far in the future, and she kicked herself for making the woman worry so.

"I've certainly thought of you like a mother, both in this life and the last," Hermione said, "And I hate to make you worry about me. But I'm sorry. I can't just sit back and relax, knowing I have the knowledge and ability to stop this, to stop more people from being tortured, murdered, and worse."

Minerva gave a small smile. "My brave lion. I shouldn't have expected anything less."

Hermione smiled back. "Technically, not a lion. Closer to a jaguar, or so they tell me."

"Cheeky witch," Minerva said, fondly, then sighed. "Since I can't convince you to give this up, let me remind you that you have my full blessing to use the McGonagall family time-turner. May it protect you when all seems lost."

Hermione's fingers crept up to the gold chain around her neck and she nodded, rubbing it. "I will."

"Is there anything else I can do for you? To speed things up so you can get back to being a proper young person again?"

"Actually, Hermione said, "There is. I need to know where the Gaunt family house is, or where the remains of it are."

* * *

Late that same afternoon, just as the sun was just flirting with the tops of the trees, a portkey dropped Hermione off just inside a beautiful wrought-iron gate. After a moment off fighting the nausea that came with portkey travel, she saw that from the view of someone on the main street, the top bars of metal curved to spell out "Potter Manor," if anyone ever cared to look. It didn't look like anyone did. The street on the other side of the gate looked like it hadn't seen a traveller in years. There were tall weeds growing in between all the cracks, and a small, black snake slithered through the dust, perfectly at home in the middle of the road.

Hermione turned around to face the long, gravel driveway that led to the Potter's house. Although it was somewhat more well-kept than the public road, it didn't look any more used. There was wild-looking grass stretching out on either side of the driveway, with rows of untrimmed trees forming a arched canopy over it. She couldn't see the manor itself, as the tree-lined drive curved out of sight, but Hermione could hear that someone was home. In fact, they seemed to be on their way to greet her.

"SIRIUS BLACK, I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR ARSE!" James Potter hollered over the sound of racing feet. From the lawn to the right of the driveway, Hermione could see Sirius' curly black hair coming up and over a hill. James wasn't that far behind, and both were sprinting at a breakneck pace.

"It's not Lily," Sirius called behind him once he noticed it was Hermione standing at the gate.

James, who had only just made it over the hill, slowed his pace in ill-concealed disappointment.

"Last one to Hermione is a house elf!" Remus' voice shouted from somewhere still behind the hill.

James and Sirius grinned at each other and resumed their sprint to the gate. Hermione braced herself, but out of nowhere it was Remus, carried by his superhuman physique, who came from behind, the wind whipping past Sirius and James as he tackled her to the ground. If Hermione hadn't been a werecreature, she'd probably have broken something with the force of the fall, but instead she just laughed.

"Not fair, Moony," Sirius said, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, "you're always faster this close to the moon."

"And don't you forget it," he said over his shoulder before capturing Hermione's lips in a chaste kiss. He smiled. "It's good to see you."

When she'd received an owl from James inviting her to visit with the Pack, Lily, and Peter for an extended stay at his family home, she'd sighed with relief. Hermione was never one to take charity, be it from Mrs. Weasley or Harry himself, she was grateful for a short respite to gather her strength and eat a few good meals before she needed to hit the road.

Now, walking up the drive, she sighed for an entirely different reason. Potter Mansion was _gorgeous_. There were four towering pillars of smooth marble which supported the front entryway and gleamed in the setting sunlight. The rest of the house seemed to be brick, but not much of it was visible underneath the thick, twining vines of ivy climbing up to the roof. In some ways, it reminded Hermione of a storybook she had as a child, about a girl named Madeline. Instead of twelve little girls in two straight lines coming to greet her, however, it was two people Hermione could only assume were James' parents.

"What a pleasure to meet the young lady James has told us so much about," the woman said, taking Hermione's hand in both of hers. Though she was on the older side, Hermione could still see how classically beautiful James' mother was. Her hair was still mostly dark with streaks of grey gathered together in a tight bun. She wore a broach around her lacy collar which matched the lace at the end of her long sleeves and the bottom of her dress.

"Mom, I told you," James said, looking mortified, "Lily's got red hair. This is _Hermione_."

"Of course she is," James' mother said, smirking, "If this were Lily, I'd be asking her about what she prefers for wedding colors."

" _MOM."_

She waved her hand away. "If I have to listen to you wax poetic about this girl every hour you're home, I'm allowed to tease you about her."

"Oh, ignore your mother," the gentleman with the cane said, patting his son on the shoulder as James' face blossomed bright red. He took two careful steps towards Hermione and whispered conspiratorially, "She just loves to rile him up. I'm Charlus Potter, Hermione. It's lovely to meet you."

Mr. Potter looked far too young to use a cane. His hair was still more pepper than salt, and it stood up at odd angles in the same thick, tousled way as his son, and his face only bore a hint of the creases and lines that accompanied age.

"Shall we retire to prepare for tea?" Mrs. Potter asked, "I've asked Moony to set a simple spread for us while we wait for your remaining guests."

Hermione looked sharply at Remus who wore a similar expression of confusion. James laughed.

"Our house elf Minny is sick," Mrs. Potter explained, "and I figured we could use another house elf to help with all the friends James brings home. James asked if he could name him, and he picked the name Moony. I didn't see the harm. At the time."

"It's fine, Mrs. Potter," Remus said turning red. When Mr. and Mrs. Potter turned to apparate back into the house, he threw a rude gesture towards James and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like _I'll get you for that._

By five fifty-five, Hermione, James, Sirius, Remus, and both elder Potters had munched on hors d'oeuvres, washed up for supper, and were seated around the elongated dining room table, waiting. Both Peter and Lily had responded to James' invitation saying they would be there, but both were more than an hour late with no contact. James' knee was bouncing under the table, occasionally jostling the candlesticks with his growing legs, and everyone around the table would jump and get slightly more anxious. Well, everyone except Mrs. Potter. She remained calm, occasionally taking a sip from her crystal wine glass, saying nothing.

Hermione knew it was Lily they were worried about. After what happened to Dorcas' home over Christmas, Alice's death not even a month ago, and the increasing body count of muggleborns in the Daily Prophet, everyone got a little nervous thinking about Lily being unaccounted for. Someone from the school had gone home with her to strengthen the wards around her house, but that did little to settle everyone's nerves.

Peter, they assumed, was just being a typical, irresponsible teenaged boy.

Just then, they heard the public floo activating in the foyer, and James bolted up to see who'd arrived. Mrs. Potter pinned the rest of them down with a look that clearly communicated how rude her son had been to leave the dinner table, so they sat quietly, straining to hear the conversation in the next room. It wasn't long before James stormed in.

"Mother. Lily informs me her invitation stated to be here at _six_."

"How strange," Mrs. Potter said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin, "I must have made a mistake. I apologize most sincerely for my actions, which have offended you, and will make amends if necessary."

"You've never misaddressed an invitation in your life," Mr. Potter said, eyeing his wife.

"There's a first time for everything, Charlus. Besides, it was sweet to see how dearly our son cares for his… _friend._ " Mrs. Potter said with a wicked glint in her eye as she looked back and forth between her son and the pretty redheaded witch who sat down across from her. Hermione could guess that she was already drawing up a betrothal contract in her mind. Before James could call his mother out for her sneaky plans however, she clapped her hands. "Now that we've worked up an appetite, let's eat! I'm sure Moony has prepared something delicious."

With that, a _pop_ sounded, and a small, wrinkle-faced house elf appeared, standing on the empty chair beside Remus. In a low, scratchy voice, he said, "Moony is honored to have Mistress Potter say such complimentary things about his cooking. Tea is served."

With a snap, food appeared on the table: bowls of steaming carrots and brussel sprouts, dishes of buttery roasted potatoes, boats of gravy, and a gorgeous, centerpiece-worthy roast goose, trussed and sprinkled with sprigs of rosemary.

Everyone relaxed and began to serve themselves, but Hermione noticed Remus still sitting stiffly, his motions awkward.

When she quirked an eyebrow at him, he motioned with his eyes to the seat beside him and whispered, "He keeps staring at me!"

Sure enough, the house elf was staring adoringly at Remus, his eyes wide and unblinking. When Remus turned to him, he cowered and looked away. "Moony didn't mean to make Mister Moony uncomfortable. Moony is sorry! Moony is a bad elf!"

He made as if to hit himself with a nearby ladle, when Mrs. Potter intervened. "We've talked about this, Moony. There is no self-punishment in the Potter household."

"Moony is sorry, Mistress." He turned his gaze back on Remus. "Moony just wants to be like his namesake, Mister Moony. Master James says Mister Moony is loyal and brave and very clever. Is it true Mister Moony has learned to protect his friends by forming a p-"

"Aaand that's enough hero-worship for the evening, thank you Moony," James said hurriedly, cutting the house elf off and chancing a glance at his mother to see if she'd noticed. She had. He just gave her his most disarming smile. "Have I told you you're looking beautiful tonight, Mother?"

Mrs. Potter inclined her head to acknowledge the compliment, then looked between each of her four house guests. "I'm thrilled to make three of your acquaintances this evening, and propriety dictates that I should introduce myself. So remember this: I am the _mother_ of Hogwarts' worst troublemaker. I was in trouble twice as often in school, and earned a NEWT in mischief. If there are things going on in my house, I will know about them."

Hermione, Remus, and Lily nodded vigorously, completely intimidated by the witch.

Mrs. Potter then smiled graciously. "Now, why don't you dears tell me all about this little pack bond you've formed."

Remus nearly choked on his fork.

* * *

A/N: Almost exactly two years to the day since I started this story, I'm baaaaack :) I'm sorry there was such a gap between updates, but I promise you, I've never forgotten about this story. Turns out, adult-y things like getting engaged, planning a wedding, and buying a house take up a lot of time and effort! But I've outlined from here to the end of the book without gaps, so I know exactly where this story is going and exactly how to get there, which should help me crank this out.

Please know that the reviews you lovely people left during my hiatus were what kept me from abandoning AitS altogether. I'm so proud of this story and am grateful there are still people reading it.


	25. Part Two- Chapter 2

By the next morning, Peter still hadn't shown up to Potter Manor, which worried everyone except Hermione.

"You aren't even the slightest bit worried about what might have happened to him?" James asked her the next morning over breakfast.

Her packmates had been up for ages, but they'd only just arrived in the sunny breakfast room, brooms and practice jerseys in tow. She'd been pleasantly surprised to feel a deep sense of calm wash over her when they joined her at the table, as if someone had thrown a blanket fresh from the dryer over her shoulders and was giving her a hug through it. She relaxed into the feeling and chalked it up to the pack bond being weird.

She shrugged one shoulder in answer to James. "He's a big boy, and not a muggleborn. He can take care of himself."

"I don't know, Hermione," Lily said between bites of toast. "I'm not sure Peter can even wipe himself without help from these three. Do you know he tried to cheat on his transfiguration study guide? It wasn't even graded!"

Mr. Potter folded his copy of the Daily Prophet. "Why don't you three boys try sending him another owl while I firecall his parent's house? Surely they know where their son is."

The three boys immediately took to this idea and abandoned their quidditch gear and breakfast, eager to find some parchment, ink and quills to hunt down their missing friend.

"Hermione and I could help too, sir," Lily piped up.

"I'm sure you girls could," Mr. Potter said. "James tells me you, Hermione, are so talented at defense they had you substitute teaching it this past year, and that both of you fought off death eaters over Christmas break. But you won't have time to track down young Pettigrew. Your morning has already been spoken for."

Hermione and Lily looked at each other, silently asking if either one had already made plans, when Mrs. Potter glided into the room.

"I've been waiting sixteen years for my son to bring a girl home, and now that he has, and _two_ girls at that, the three of us are making up for lost time."

"Ma'am?" Lily asked.

Mrs. Potter smiled over a cup of freshly poured tea. "I've never had a daughter, and as neither of you are interested in spending the next twelve hours playing with brooms and quaffles, we're going shopping."

Again, Hermione and Lily froze, looking at each other. Hermione was the one to explain. "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Potter, but I'm not sure we'll be able to. Neither of us really has… that is to say, Lily's family is… I'm an orphan, and I earned _some_ money this year working as a substitute, but-"

Mrs. Potter waved her hands, shooing away the very idea. "Not only have you both kept my son and my nephew safe despite a harrowing year, but I have the sneaking suspicion you'll continue to do so in the future. Consider it my paying off a debt and investing in the future."

"I'm not sure you want to employ us as bodyguards," Hermione said, sourly. "We don't have a great track record of keeping our friends alive."

Mrs. Potter looked shamefaced. There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before she said, "I am sorry for your classmate. I don't mean to put more pressure on you. But you mustn't be so hard on yourselves about Miss Brown's death. It's the role of adults to keep a school safe, and they are the ones that failed you."

Hermione wanted to mention that technically she was an adult and far more responsible than Mrs. Potter knew, but instead she changed the subject. Lily looked ready to cry.

"I didn't know Sirius was your nephew."

"Great nephew, technically. His mother, Walburga, is my niece."

"I'm sorry," Hermione automatically said, then covered her mouth, shocked at her own rudeness.

Mrs. Potter just laughed. "Yes, that's the most typical reaction. I'm sorry you've met her acquaintance."

"Mrs. Potter?" Lily said, "I'm grateful that you'd think to take us shopping, but we really couldn't impose on you like that. Plus, for every time we've kept James and Sirius and Remus out of trouble, we've gotten them in twice as much."

"You prank my boys back, you mean?" Mrs. Potter asked, one eyebrow raised. "Wonderful. They need to have their egos taken down a notch every so often. For that, I'll have to take you shopping _twice_." She lifted her chin and smirked like the cat who got the cream. "I'll hear no argument."

* * *

Mrs. Potter- no, _Dorea,_ as she'd asked the girls to call her- had a private floo connection set up between the Manor's foyer and Madame Malkin's, so they'd been able to avoid the ridiculous Sunday noontime crowds for the time. Lily and Hermione were both wearing muggle clothes, and had initially given the Madame a bit of a shock. She'd gotten over it though, and then the pair of them had been measured and pinched and turned this way and that. An hour and a half later, both girls had walked out with three new, formal dress robes. Both of them had protested that they'd never need such things, but Dorea waved them off, saying "you never know when a society engagement might crop up."

"I highly doubt that any society engagement which requires such fancy robes would be interested in inviting two muggleborn witches to their soiree, never mind on three separate occasions," Hermione had said. "Plus, the last time I went to an event with formal attire, it was crashed by death eaters. The one before that, I hid from my date behind the curtains all night. I really don't have good luck with wizarding parties."

Dorea only laughed. "Well then _I_ will have to throw some kind of get together and invite you. Merlin knows pureblood society could use some livening up."

"I wouldn't know the first thing about being at a pureblood event," Lily said, blanching slightly.

"Just remember that everyone is lying to you, all the time, and you'll be just fine," Dorea said, then pointed to a stationary store. "I need to get a few supplies. Why don't you girls enjoy yourself for a bit and I'll meet you at the ice cream shoppe by one o'clock?"

The girls nodded and went their separate ways, dodging people left and right as they wandered. Diagon Alley really was packed. A group of witches in light, summer robes and hats were huddled around the front window of _Piggleton's Potions, Powders, and Products_ , oooing and ahhing over some new anti-frizz concoction. Some young wizards and one witch were clamoring to get inside _Broomstix_ to see the latest model, a Thunderbird XL. And, as it had been every other time she'd seen it, the Leaky Cauldron was full to bursting.

Hermione fingered the galleons in her pocket, a combination of her hard earned substitute paychecks and Dorea's gift of 'spending money,' as they passed the apothecary.

"Actually, Lily, would you mind if I just went in here for a minute? I need, well, a thing," she finished, lamely.

Lily stood between Hermione and the door and crossed her arms. "Tell me to my face what you're going in for."

"I told you, just a thing. No big deal," Hermione said, pulling on the sleeve of her shirt. She hated wearing long sleeved shirts in the middle of summer, but she hadn't yet perfected the cosmetic charm to cover her cursed scar.

Lily glared at her. "Are you going in for more Dreamless Sleep?"

Hermione floundered. "No! Why would I need that stuff? I'm fine. I just need…" she searched for a suitable fib, "Peruvian instant darkness powder."

"That's not even a real thing, and you're a terrible liar," Lily said, before softening. "Hermione. That stuff is addictive."

"I don't know why you think-"

"It was months ago you told me you took it. If you're still going for the stuff, you're already hooked. I've done my research. You need a detox, and I'm starting you on it tonight."

Hermione started to panic. Images of battles and monsters and the many, many dead rose unbidden to the forefront of her mind. "Lily, you don't understand, I _need_ dreamless sleep. You have no idea. If I don't take it…"

Lily's threaded her fingers through Hermione's. "Tonight, _when_ you don't take it, I'll be right by your side. Remember those breathing techniques I helped you with when you came over for Christmas? I have a few more tricks to help you get to sleep after an awful nightmare."

"I'm not sure about this."

"Come on. Let's go to Flourish and Blotts. I'll show you a book that might help. It was written by a veteran of the last Goblin War, and it has some very fascinating ideas about-"

She was interrupted when a cry erupted from behind them on the crowded street. Hermione looked up and saw a familiar shadow pass over them all, and immediately went into battle mode.

But Lily got to her first, yanking on her arm and pulling her into a secondhand junk shop. Hermione tried to pull away, her mind narrowly focused on neutralizing the danger in the street, but it seemed like the entire population of the alley was trying to flood in towards the shop, and Hermione couldn't fight against a current that strong. Though she was bursting with adrenaline, she let herself be pulled into the piles of misaligned scales, broken wands, and rusting cauldrons.

Then she remembered a swimming lesson she had as a child on vacation to the French Riviera, about how to escape from a rip current. Against the flow of bodies pressing into the shop, she angled herself sideways and maneuvered herself into a corner where no one was touching her, where she pulled out her wand and apparated back into the street.

Hovering above the deserted street was the largest dementor she'd ever seen. It had to be at least thirty feet long, with its trailing, ragged-looking robe touching down from a story high. The cobblestones and window fronts had all frosted over, and a light snow was starting to fall. And, if she wasn't mistaken, it was actually _Kissing_ someone.

Hermione steeled herself against the expected feelings of hopelessness and dread and gritted her teeth. "Expecto patronum!"

Hermione gasped at what she saw. In a swirl of misty blue light, a creature very different from her familiar otter ran bounded away to meet the dementor. A large cat, menacing and deadly, launched into the air. Hermione had never seen her own form, of course, not that she could remember. It was so big! It's hackles stood up at odd angles and its teeth and claws were leathally sharp. It made her cower more than the dementor itself.

The patronus, unaware of its master's inner turmoil, ripped into what would have been the dementor's jugular, if it'd had one. The dementor ceased Kissing the stranger (whose face Hermione still couldn't see), but only floated a mere few feet away from the bright guardian. Her patronus must not have thought that was good enough, and seemed to growl, crouching low as if preparing to pounce again.

The dementor, amazingly, held its ground.

Hermione gulped. "Finish it off, girl." She tried intentionally to think of her happiest memories with Harry and Ron, but instead, images from her first kiss with Remus floated to the surface. Deciding not to dwell on that thought, she flicked her wand.

The werecat patronus became a wild thing, tearing off at a breakneck pace towards the dementor, who finally had the good sense to flee. The werecat didn't slow, though, and continued to chase the shadowed beast into the sky, until Hermione could no longer see either.

Hermione staggered a bit, not prepared for how much the spell would take out of her, but still she pressed forward to crouch beside the man the dementor had started to Kiss. She rummaged around in her pocket for a piece of chocolate, and found a single Cadbury Creme Egg a student had given her for Easter that she must have forgotten about.

"Here," she said, "Eat this. It'll help, I prom-"

The would-be victim was still passed out, but Hermione had rolled his shoulder over to see his face, and she'd frozen at the sight of telltale platinum blond hair. Hermione stood up and backed away, half convinced the man would rise up and summon the Dark Lord at the sight of her.

The street was starting to fill back up with shaking pedestrians, all whispering, pointing, and staring at Hermione and the carbon copy of Draco Malfoy. The man, _Lucius_ , she thought with a snarl, was starting to come to in the ensuing noise.

"What the bloody-" he muttered, leaping to his unsteady feet. He was shorter than she remembered, though whether that's because she remembered him mostly from when she was a young girl, or because he was still a growing young man in this time, was uncertain. He regained his balance quickly though, and brushed off the offending alley dust from his impeccably tailored robes. Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder, and would have jumped if she didn't immediately feel a wash of calm, similar to what she'd felt that morning at breakfast.

"Mister Malfoy," Dorea said.

He stood straighter, glaring. "Missus Potter. I suppose I'll have to call you _Auntie_ Potter soon?"

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Dorea said, then came to stand beside Hermione. Hermione saw Lily pushing her way through the crowds and opening her mouth, trying to ask what happened, but Hermione put a finger to her lips and motioned her over, more curious about how this interaction would play out.

"I'm sure you've thanked this young witch already," Dorea said, "It was a very brave thing for her to do, standing up to a dementor like that."

"Of course I have," he lied smoothly, "what kind of gentleman do you take me for?"

Hermione began to correct him, but Dorea shushed her and looked hard at Malfoy. "The kind to not recognize a soul debt when it literally kisses him on the mouth."

He blanched, and truly looked at Hermione, his eyes taking in her wild hair, the cheap polyester shirt, and the knees of her her jeans dusty from kneeling next to him. He scowled at Dorea. "You're joking. I was never in danger of losing my soul. This mud-"

"That beast was in the process of Kissing you," Dorea said, her voice pitched low as she looked around the once again crowded street. She took another step forward, now placing herself between Hermione, Lily, and him. "I saw. You most certainly would have lost your soul within minutes, if not seconds."

Lucius Malfoy scoffed and snapped his dress robes, _also long sleeved_ , behind him. "This is over," he said, then side-stepped Dorea to look directly at Hermione. "You'd do well to forget this ever happened, little witch." And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

"Come on girls," Dorea muttered, plowing through the crowds with a cross-me-and-die look on her face. Hermione and Lily hustled to keep up with her.

"Dorea?" Hermione asked when they finally stopped inside Madame Malkin's once more.

"Not now."

And so there was no more talk, save the floo call of "Potter Manor!" until all three were safely in the beautiful foyer once more. Dorea called for house elf Moony to bring all three of them some chocolate, and once they'd finished it, she spoke.

"I won't insult your intelligence by automatically assuming you don't know what just happened in the Alley."

"You said something about a soul debt," Hermione said.

Lily's head jerked up. "Oh, I know about those."

Both Hermione and Dorea looked at her. "You do?"

"What? Don't look so surprised. Hermione isn't the only one who lives in the library. I read about them in a book about wizarding bonds. I was trying to figure out why you and Remus clicked so fast. Now I know why, of course."

"What did this book tell you about soul debts, Lily?" Dorea asked.

"Not much," she admitted, "but I remember it said something about forming when one person was about to lose their soul, and then someone else saved it?"

"Precisely," Dorea said, then motioned for them to follow her upstairs towards the library James had showed Hermione and Lily the night before.

"Isn't this just the same thing as a life debt?" Hermione called, climbing after her, "I'm familiar with those."

Dorea didn't answer, just strode purposefully into the beautiful library. Her old-fashioned dress fluttered just above the ground as she made her way to a corner where there was an unusually shabby looking bookcase, out of place among the ornate, floor-to-ceiling shelves. She tapped her wand in a complicated pattern on the spines of the books, and in a little poof of dust, the case slid open to reveal a second library hidden behind the first.

She lit her wand to search through the dark, cobwebby stacks as Lily and Hermione gingerly stepped in behind her. The little room was pitch black and so much colder than the proper library that Hermione felt gooseflesh rising on her arms. Interspersed among the books were jars of mysterious substances, a skull Hermione didn't want to think was real, and a book opened up on a free standing lectern that seemed to be moaning.

"Ah hah!" Dorea said, finding a book on the top shelf.

"Oh thank Merlin," Lily said, making a beeline for the exit. Hermione followed her out, and together they waited on an emerald green chaise lounge by the window for Dorea to explain herself.

She came out muttering and running her finger over an ancient-looking table of contents, "Magical bonds, bonds of servitude, temporary bonds, debtors bonds, life debt, Ah! Soul debt!" She flipped the pages and pointed out the paragraph to Hermione. "That should answer your question."

Hermione took the book and began to read out loud. "Like a life debt, a soul debt is incurred when one person was at risk of losing their soul, and another person intervened to prevent it. The two instances when a person is most likely at risk of losing their soul is when they're about to be given the dementor's kiss, or when they're about to commit murder. Soul debts differ slightly from life debts, however. A life is a biological fact, a physical thing. A life belongs only to one person. When a person saves someone's life, they are in debt to that biological reality.

"A soul, meanwhile, is mysterious. You cannot measure one or determine where it starts and ends. Souls, unlike lives, can be shared. Souls intertwine for a number of reasons- romantic, friendly, familial, or pedagogical relationships are the four most common. In these instances, two people share bits of their souls, exchanging one bit for the other. Each person maintains a stable soul in this case, because there's not a hole in their heart, but a patchwork quilt of joined pieces."

"I remember this!" Lily exclaimed, grabbing the book from Hermione.

"How can you possibly have found a copy of Fordyce's Grimoire?" Dorea asked, stunned. "To my knowledge, there were only five or six copies left."

Lily shrugged. "You'd be surprised what kinds of books they're willing to interlibrary loan for prefects claiming to be doing independent research projects."

"But wait," Hermione said, interrupting Dorea's question of the term 'interlibrary loan,' "if people already share bits of soul with each other, how can there be such a thing as a soul debt?"

"Here, keep reading," Lily said.

Hermione cleared her throat and flipped the page. "Because of this, anyone who's currently sharing bits of soul cannot incur or create a soul debt, because part of the would-be victim's soul belonged to them in the first place, and so the act isn't entirely self-sacrificial. But if you have two strangers, or enemies perhaps, two people who share no soul in common, and one saves the soul of the other, a soul debt is incurred. It's so rare as to almost never happen, as strangers don't often prevent each other from committing murder or receiving a dementor's kiss."

"You have done a very rare thing, Hermione," Dorea said. "I say that assuming you'd never met Mr. Malfoy before?"

"We've met," Hermione said, shortly, "but we certainly have never swapped soul bits with each other."

"So can you do the same thing with a soul debt as you can with a life debt? Make people do things for you, I mean?" Lily asked.

"Read on," Dorea said.

"But there isn't any more," Hermione said, holding the book up, "The next page is ripped out."

"Someone _mutilated_ one of my books?" Dorea seethed, taking the book in her own hands to gently run her fingertips along the tear marks.

"I'm sure I could get my copy back from Madam Pince at Hogwarts," Lily offered. "I'll send an owl to Dumbledore and-"

"No!" Hermione said, already thinking about how this new information sounded eerily similar to horcruxes. Plus, if Albus knew she had a death eater in the palm of her hand, what would he do to use that, use her? When Lily and Dorea both looked at her funny, she sighed, too tired to come up with a terrible lie. "I just don't want him to know."

"I can message Ms. Pince myself," Dorea said. "I often communicate with her about literary matters. She's quite pleasant."

Hermione couldn't see how anyone who looked that much like a vulture could be pleasant, but kept her mouth shut. Until Dorea was about to put the book back in her secret library, when she asked, "Actually, could I borrow that for a bit longer? There are some other things I'd like to look up."

Dorea gave her a level look. "There are pretty dark things in this book, if they haven't also been ripped out. Spells more powerful than the imperius and not illegal, charms to make someone forget their own mother, and some of the most powerful love potions in the world. Why do you want it?"

"I wondered if there might be anything in there on werepack bonds," Hermione said, giving a partial truth. "I've felt strange things all day, and wondered if they might be related."

"Well, it comes from the ancestral library of a Black," she said, handing the book over. "I doubt you'll find anything terribly complimentary or light."

Hermione nodded, staring at the dark, inky cover and sighing. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

A/N: Holy guacamole. That last chapter got more views than I've ever received from an update. Welcome, all you new readers!

Please take the time to review. Fanfic authors write for free, and reviews are the way you can tell us if you liked our stories! Whether it's a line you liked, a plot point you love, or a fun joke you heard today, I love hearing it.


	26. Part Two- Chapter 3

For the third time in as many hours a few nights later, Hermione woke up in a cold sweat, shouting. She looked about the pitch dark room, searching for the death eater she'd been running from, her wand already out from under her pillow and gripped tightly in hand.

After a few moments, she got her bearings. Just another dream. She sucked down a deep breath and did a physical check like Lily had taught her. She could feel her sleep shirt clinging to her in strange places and hairs sticking to her neck and face. She brushed them off. Her hands were balled into fists and her legs were tight, as if she'd just sprinted for hours. She tried to stretch and relax but only ended up trembling.

Looking down, she could see the outline of Lily, still fast asleep beside her on the enormous king-sized bed, a hand curled up under her chin. Good. The sleeping potion Hermione had slipped her definitely worked.

For the last week, Lily had been up with Hermione every night, every hour, or so it seemed. Without the Dreamless Sleep, her nightmares now had free rein over her subconscious. They terrorized her with a thousand what-if scenarios, and worse, what _happened_. Over and over, she watched the Battle in the Department of Mysteries, the Battle of Hogwarts, the Wizarding Gladiatorial Melee. She watched her friends murdered and she'd woken, screaming, trying to save them. Lily had been there every time with a glass of water, a hug, and a reminder to breathe. But Hermione saw how fatigued Lily was becoming during the day, and she hated being the cause of her friend's exhaustion.

She cast a _tempus,_ causing the time _3:21_ to blink before her eyes, then vanish. She threw her head back on the pillow and groaned.

"Hermione?"

She froze.

"Hermione," Remus said, coming into the room and gently closing the door, "I know you're awake. I...I can _feel_ it."

"Keep your voice down," she said, sitting up with a sigh. "Lily's still sleeping."

Remus came to her left side of the bed and reached a hand out to grab hers. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Because I just woke up out of a dead sleep with my pack mark on fire, like someone took my mother's curling iron to my bicep. It's gotten cooler in the last minute or so, but I figured it wouldn't just burn like that for no reason."

She pushed his short sleeve up to find the intersecting three lines on his bicep. He was right; it was still warm to the touch.

"It's never done that before," she said, avoiding the question.

"So what's different about right now?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he accio'd a chair from the other side of the room and sat down.

"Just go back to bed, Remus," she said, wearily.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Hermione just pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"I know you have nightmares," he said. "You told me that time we got Flopsy's lava cakes, remember? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Still, Hermione said nothing.

Remus tried a different tactic. "Why is Lily out cold? I thought she was helping you with these."

"She wasn't sleeping well. No sense in both of us being up. Plus, I could have nightmares the rest of my life. I need to learn how to cope on my own." Images of her near future horcrux hunting came to mind.

In the faint starlight coming from the open balcony door, she could see his eyes looking intently at her, then hardening, as if they'd decided something.

"I want to promise you something, Hermione," he said. "I've been thinking about this for a while now, ever since you told me the truth about where you come from, that day in the room of requirement. I wanted right then and there to promise to protect you from ever being hurt like that again."

"You can't possibly promise that."

"Exactly. Which is why I didn't. You're a werecat, and that alone is something I can't protect you from, never mind death eaters and the rest. But there is something I can promise you." He sat up straight and took her hand in both of his. He pressed a feather-light kiss to her knuckles which made her heart skip a beat, then he quietly said, "I promise, Hermione Granger, to always be there for you."

Hermione made a sound like a hollow, pained laugh. "That's worse. There's no way you can always be there."

"Yes there is. I'm going to be there, right by your side, no matter what happens. I'll make an unbreakable vow and-"

"And you'll keel over dead when I accidentally slip in the shower," she said, shaking her head. "Admit it. You can't _always_ be there." Hermione pulled her hand back and tightened her grip on her knees, feeling even more alone now than she had when she first woke up.

"Okay," he said, "no unbreakable vow. But I do promise. I'll prove it to you every day. Starting right now."

"What are you doing?" she asked, watching him transfigure the seat cushion into a pillow.

"Staying here with you. If you won't let Lily stay up to help with your nightmares- which she's going to give you a piece of her mind about, let me tell you- then let me do it."

Hermione sighed. She was tired of fighting. Plus, the idea of falling asleep next to Remus had its charms. "Okay. Come up on the bed then."

Remus looked stricken. "Um, that's probably not a good idea."

"Why?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, Mr. Potter sat James, Sirius, and I down for a talk our first night here. He gave us this long lecture, and…"

"What?"

Remus mumbled something.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Pleasure?"

"No!" he said, his cheeks flaming. "He told us… he said we had to 'guard your carnal treasure.'"

"My carnal treasure?"

He cringed. "Please don't keep saying it."

Too tired to outright laugh, Hermione snorted. Her legs finally relaxed and the feeling of impending doom disappeared. Remus offered a small grin as he settled down in the chair next to her and propped his torso up on a pillow.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Try to go back to sleep."

So she did. Hermione laid back down on her own pillow and threaded her fingers through Remus'. If she lay still enough, she could feel his blood steadily pulsing away through his veins. In time with his heartbeats, Hermione drifted off.

* * *

The next time she woke, she could hear birds singing. She stayed still, relishing their sweet song for a few minutes. She also sensed a separate feeling of warmth which wrapped her up like a second comforter. When she opened her eyes, the pale sun illuminated her room just enough to show two extra shapes curled up at the foot of her bed. If not for the now tell-tale feeling of comfort that seemed to come only when in the presence of her entire pack, she might have panicked.

Down to her right, somewhere south of where Lily's feet must have been, she could just see tufts of Harry-esque dark, curly hair sticking up from a pile of blankets. The other shape was sprawled out, partially draped over her lower legs and partially spilling off the bed. They were positioned in such a way, especially combined with Remus on her left and Lily on her right, that she thought of chess pieces on a board, guarding the king. Or, Hermione thought wryly, the queen in this instance.

She slipped soundlessly out of bed to go to the loo, leaving a hole in the middle of their circle. She sighed. They couldn't protect her forever.

* * *

ANONYMOUS MINISTRY OFFICIAL SAVES DIAGON ALLEY

Lily read the Daily Prophet out loud for the benefit of the five, tired young people at the table, all gathered together with a full English breakfast. Mr. Potter and Dorea spoke softly in the next room. Apparently, none of them had slept well, and it showed. Lily grumbled as she read, upset that they hadn't given Hermione the credit for dispensing with the dementor, but Hermione was pleased that she'd escaped notice. It was much easier to fight her enemy if he didn't know who she was.

 _"Yesterday afternoon, a packed Diagon Alley filled with shoppers was attacked by a rogue dementor from Azkaban, whose presence was blamed on a malfunctioning ward at the feared wizarding prison. The unnamed Ministry official, who is rumored to work in the Department of Mysteries, produced a fully corporeal patronus which sent the beast flying off to the North Sea."_

"That doesn't make any sense," Hermione said. "We're hundreds of kilometers away from Azkaban. Why would a dementor fly all the way to Diagon Alley if it was simply escaped? Edinburgh, Amsterdam, even Copenhagen would be closer."

"What else could it be?" Lily asked.

Hermione thought of the summer just before fifth year when Harry and his cousin were attacked by a dementor in Little Whinging. "Dementors can be ordered around by Ministry officials. I'm sure it wasn't there by accident."

Sirius frowned. "We could always find out for ourselves why they were there."

"How would we do that?" Hermione asked.

"You were the one that substituted DADA this year," he answered, "so you should remember 'Knowledge is Power,' right? Spying? Surveillance?"

"There's no way we could spy on the ministry," James said. "That's serious, guys."

"No, _he's_ Sirius," Hermione, Lily, and Remus said in unison, even before Sirius could.

Sirius looked about the table, seeming pleased, but when he made eye contact with Hermione his mirth faded and he frowned. She quirked an eyebrow at him, but he looked away. He then grabbed a spare piece of parchment from his back pocket and started making a list. "We could start by-"

Mr. Potter cleared his voice from the doorway, and Sirius immediately hid the paper.

"James, friends of James, nephew," Dorea said formally, coming into the room and sitting at the head of the table. "It has come to the attention of your father and I that several beds were found unoccupied this morning."

Remus and the other boys went white, then red. Hermione saw Mr. Potter mouth ' _carnal treasure'_ and gave the three boys pointed looks.

"We didn't, I mean, nothing happened like you're thinking. It's just that…" Remus said, trailing off while looking quickly at Hermione, clearly not wanting to give her secret away.

"I'm aware that nothing _untoward_ happened last night," she said, looking carefully at them. "However, I wanted you five to all be aware that your actions did not go unnoticed. Should there ever be an instance when your credibility is called into question, when you were not simply helping a friend out, I will not hesitate to use legilimency."

"You can do that, Mum?" James asked, shocked.

"How do you think I knew when you were lying about what happened to my favorite china vase when you were nine?"

"...magic?"

Dorea rolled her eyes. "Just know we'll be watching," she said, pecking James with a kiss on his forehead before running her fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. "You kids have fun today. Your father and I have a meeting."

Hermione waited until Dorea and Mr. Potter were out of earshot before asking, "Do any of you boys have surveillance equipment here right now?"

"Sirius has a few Recording Beetles in his room," James answered. "Why?"

"I want to know what kind of meeting your parents are going to."

* * *

After Hermione had managed to sneak one of Sirius' beetles into Dorea's purse, the fun James and Sirius had immediately called for that afternoon was hide and seek, wizarding style. Any detection or concealment charms, spells, or items were fair game, and they had the whole Manor and all of the grounds at their disposal. Hermione had grinned, knowing enough wards and spells to keep entire armies from finding her, and took off towards the apple orchard. So she was shocked when not five minutes later, Sirius and James barreled into her.

"What the bloody-"

"Shush. We need to talk to you," James said, his wand wavering between drawn and lowered as he looked around them.

"How the hell did you manage to find me?"

"What, we can't have a few tricks up our own sleeve, kitten?" Sirius taunted.

"I just want to know," she said, ignoring the stupid nickname.

"We'll tell you later," James said, finally lowering his wand once he saw she wasn't going into attack mode and they were alone. "Right now, we need you to tell us if you're cheating on Remus or not."

"Because if you are," Sirius joined in, with the most menacing look she'd ever seen on his face, "we'll find a way to hurt you for it, DADA substitute or not."

"Why on earth would I be cheating on Remus?" She looked back and forth between them, hoping they weren't still thinking that Snape was an issue.

"When we came into your room last night, we heard you moaning about some bloke named Harry. And then another time about one named Ron." Sirius crossed his arms, looking like he'd already made his decisions about her. James looked torn, and Hermione remembered something the Remus from her original time had said to Harry: " _James_ _would have regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends."_

"I would never, _ever_ cheat on Remus," she swore quietly.

Sirius pushed. "Okay then, but who are Harry and Ron?"

She rolled her head back and looked at the sky, scanning for some kind of sign that she shouldn't put herself in danger and let more people in on her secret. She didn't find one.

"Okay. Let's get this over with, but you're not going to believe me if I tell you. Do you have any veritaserum?"

* * *

Apparently, they did not. So she helped them round up the other two from various hiding places on the grounds. (Remus was the hardest to find; he'd made friends with Moony the house elf, who had bowed and groveled and let Remus hide in the kitchen, which he then warded with house elf magic.)

After calming Sirius and James down about being 'the last to know everything,' she started talking. They scoffed and shook their heads, reminding her of what a terrible liar she'd always been. Finally, they capitulated when both Lily and Remus confirmed her story, especially since Remus actually had veritaserum on hand when questioning her. Since she had all four of the people she trusted most in the world with her, she laid it all bare. How their side lost the first war, how Voldemort survived, how they came so close to winning in her time before he defeated them at the final battle. By the end, she was exhausted from telling them everything.

"So this Harry James Potter," James said, looking eager, "who's his mother?"

Well, everything except that part.

"I'm not telling you."

"Why?" he asked.

She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake her fatigue. "Because Harry was my best friend. I won't do or say anything that even potentially threatens his existence in this life. And telling you would definitely throw a wrench into everything. You two wouldn't get together naturally, and I don't want you to feel like you _have_ to do anything. It's not like you're caught in this vacuum where everything is destined to happen."

"Can we talk about what's really important here?" Lily asked, blessedly changing the subject. "You said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named split up his soul using dark magic. And you almost won the war by destroying the different parts with Harry and Ron. Has he already split it up? Can you just do the same thing again?"

Hermione had hoped to gloss over that bit for a while, but wasn't surprised that Lily had put the pieces together first. They were all looking at her expectantly, though, so she supposed she had to answer. "Yes. I've done the math, and according to my calculations, he's already made five horcruxes. Plus, I know, or at least have an idea, of where all of them currently are. It's just a matter of tracking them down and destroying them. It shouldn't be too hard."

"Are you mental?" Remus asked, standing up and pacing around the sitting room they'd commandeered. "You're just going to go around and steal bits of Voldemort's soul right from under his nose? Don't you think that's the slightest bit dangerous?"

"That's kind of the idea, Remus," she said. "It's war. It's not easy or pretty or safe."

He shook his head. "I won't let you."

"Excuse me?"

"Remus is right," James piped up. "We're your pack, your family. We can't let you just run off after some evil megalomaniac by yourself."

Sirius seemed to catch on. "Exactly. You need to run of after evil megalomaniacs WITH your pack!"

"What?" Hermione said. "No. No no nononono."

James was grinning. "Why not? We've got that sweet pack bond protection dome thingy we discovered with Lily. With us, you'd be safe from everything. It'd be even easier than your last time."

"You don't know that," Hermione tried reasoning. "We haven't tested that against anything but a single-attacker scenario, and even that was pretty weak. It might be useless against a whole slew of death eaters, or Voldemort himself. There's no sense in all of you putting yourselves in danger when we don't even know if the pack bond will always work."

Remus was unmoved. "Guys, it doesn't matter if the pack bond works against ten people or a hundred. Hermione shouldn't be running off and trying to stop a war. None of us should."

"Well, I agree about none of you coming with me on this mad goose chase," Hermione said, crossing her arms, "but why not me, Remus?"

"It's just not a good idea."

"I told you, I've done it before. It wasn't exactly easy, but I've got the advantage in knowledge and skill this time. Plus, no one knows who I am now, so no one should be hunting around after me."

"Still." He held his ground as the three others started to take a few steps back.

"What do you want from me, Remus? Don't you see what he's going to do, what he's already done? Voldemort is a cancer, and if I don't stop it, he's going to infect everyone and everything. I've seen it once, and I'm not going to let it happen again. I need to destroy him, and I'm only sorry I didn't start earlier. Merlin, I should never have come to the Manor," she said, aggressively running her hand through her hair.

"What would I do if something happened to you? Huh?" he exploded. "It was bad enough when we lost Alice, who we shared a house with for the last five years, but you? You waltz in to our lives, into to _my_ life and completely turn it upside down. We- no, _I_ can't lose you, too. It would crush me."

"That doesn't matt-" she started to say, and only froze when she saw the look on Remus' face. "No, I didn't mean-"

"No, I know," Remus said, crossing his hands tightly over his chest and pursing his lips. "I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to think…."

She took a step forward, willing him to understand. "It's not that I don't care about you too, but it's the whole world, the whole future. I can't be selfish and just hide away with you somewhere I'd be safe, not when I can stop others from hurting, from dying."

Hermione could see his jaw clench, then relax. He said, "Alright then. When do we leave?"

"There's no way-"

He drew close to her, cupping her cheeks with both hands, and whispered, "I don't make promises lightly." And then he kissed her, tasting like fresh raspberries snuck from the kitchen.

"Atta boy, Moony!" James said jumping on his friend's back. "We'll ride this pack all the way to the end of the war!"

Hermione tried a few more times to explain, get them to listen to her reasons why she should be the only one to go, but Sirius and James were already getting excited about being heroes and saving the world. She watched, unable to curb their enthusiasm as they made plans for dueling Voldemort as a pack and blasting him apart in some valiant show of magic, pulling Remus in with promises of bravery.

Lily stood next to her and wrapped on arm around her. "Just because I'm not part of your pack doesn't mean I'm not coming."

"Lily-"

"We're only a year younger than you were when you first went to fight him. And you didn't have a pack bond then either, and did alright."

"Everyone died, Lily. I don't think I'd say that's alright."

"Well, we won't this time."

"I wonder."

Hermione stopped fighting then and allowed herself to be pulled into a great group hug and led back into the house. In the back of her mind though, she was already planning. She needed to leave.

* * *

A/N: Again, I'm floored by the response this story is getting, now more than ever. I'm not sure how you all are finding this fic, but I'm pleased and grateful that you've chosen to read my little story (well, now it's becoming quite large). Thank you for reviewing, and thank you for reading.

Bonus points if anyone can spot the cheesy early-2000s rom-com reference. :P

A couple of responses to guest reviews, since I can't respond to you directly: 'Guest'- LOL. No one has yet pointed that out, but thank you for making me belly laugh in the middle of the grocery store. Oh my goodness. 'OpalHonors'- Glad you liked it!


	27. Part Two- Chapter 4

Hermione was somewhere very… clean.

She walked around this quiet location that seemed washed of all color. Actually, it resembled the waiting room in her parents' dental practice, except it was all in various shades of white. There were limp, white chairs lined up around the perimeter, a white TV mounted to one wall, and brittle, dying, white plants baking in the the window. A white coffee table was in the middle of the room, covered with magazines and children's books and toys. She picked up a 'get the ball through the labyrinth' game, remembering how many hours she used to spend here after school doing her homework on the ground because she didn't want to be at home with a nanny. Actually, this was the place she met Minerva, that one day when there were mysteriously no dental assistants or waiting patients, the first time she learned she was a witch.

"Hello?" she called out.

"Hermione!" a voice said. She turned around and saw someone sitting in one of the chairs. Someone who definitely hadn't been there a moment before.

"Is it really you?"

Neville's grinning face bore no hint of the blood, dirt, or scars it had the last time she saw him. He was whole and beautiful and, from the way he jumped up to hug her, happy.

"I've been waiting so long to see you," he said, spinning her around.

They held onto each other for long minutes, his arms strong as he supported her. He smelled like soil after a rainstorm. She clung to that scent, to him, feeling like if she let him go, he might disappear forever. She wasn't ready for that yet.

"Are you real?" she asked, her voice catching.

"It's an interesting question, really," he said. "Mum says no, but I feel real enough."

"Your...Mum?" Hermione pulled away, looking at him.

"I know. My _Mum_ , Hermione. Did you know she loves herbology as much as I do? Well, of course you did, but I had no idea!" He was smiling wide, so wide. Hermione's heart clenched.

"Neville... it's my fault your mother is dead. You know that, right?" she said, feeling her throat go dry and tight. "You'll never even be born because of me."

Neville looked thoughtful. He stepped away, walking over to the window where the dry, lifeless plants were. He put a hand out to touch them and instantly they straightened, grew, and flushed green, becoming the only spot of color in the room besides she and Neville.

He turned back to her. "Just because my Mum and I aren't technically living anymore, doesn't mean we're any less alive."

Hermione shook her head, unable to accept what he was saying. "But what about, I don't know, ice cream, Neville? You'll never have another ice cream, or feel the sun on your face, or lay in fresh cut grass. You'll never be able to use magic again!" She sat down in one of the understuffed chairs and pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I've taken everything away from you!"

He smiled gently, sitting next to her. "I'm the one who's dead, or un-born or whatever. That means I know more than you about how this works," he said, and put a hand on her knee. "I have my Mum now. You gave her to me, Hermione. And getting to know my Mum is something I'd trade all the ice cream and sunshine and magic in the world for."

She sniffed. "I'm just so sorry."

Ever the same, kind Neville, he reached into his pocket to pull out a tissue for her. In doing so though, his remembrall popped out and fell on the floor, glowing red.

"Oh no," he muttered. "I've no idea what it was this time."

Hermione laughed a watery laugh as she accepted the tissue. "I suppose you haven't changed."

He nodded, then focused on a spot somewhere behind her ear. She turned around, but saw nothing except the wall. When she reoriented herself, the remembrall was once again clear.

"Will you do me a favor, Hermione?" he asked in a quiet voice, softer than usual.

"Anything," she promised.

"There's a specialty arboretum in Glasgow that sells tree saplings. Would you get one of their birch hybrids and plant it? Somewhere nice? My mother had a birch wand, and, well…"

His eyes went unfocused again, like he was looking at something very far away. Hermione looked behind her once more, hoping against hope to see whatever Neville was seeing.

But there was nothing, or rather, _no one_ there.

When she faced forward again, Neville had gotten up. "I've really got to be going now, Hermione."

"Please, Neville," she said, "not yet. Just five more minutes and-"

He pulled her up and wrapped her in an enormous, awkward, perfectly Neville hug. Then he stepped back and pointed at her pack mark, the tips just showing above the cut of her shirt, "It's not fair that you have to go and save the world twice. Once is more than any person should be forced to do."

The front door to the office opened, and there seemed to be a bright light coming from the other side. Instinctively, Hermione knew she couldn't cross that threshold. It was because of this that she bit her lip, hard, as she saw Alice waving from the other side, beckoning Neville through. Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe as she gave a single, shaky wave to her friend and bit down on her lip, harder.

She turned back to Neville, sucking in a deep breath. "Tell the others I miss them? That I love them? Your mother especially, but also Harry and Ron and the rest?"

He looked puzzled. "I'll tell my Mum, certainly, but I haven't actually seen Ron or Harry around. I figured they were waiting somewhere for you, too. I heard they didn't get a chance to say goodbye either."

It was that moment of elation that Hermione clung to, the knowledge that she would see Ron and Harry again sometime in the future, as she watched Neville leave her and join his mother. Immediately, Alice whispered something in his ear, then pointed to Hermione. He flushed bright red, but dutifully stepped back on Hermione's side of the threshold.

He pulled at the collar of his shirt. "My Mum- she- she says you should 'jump Lupin's bones.'"

Hermione's mouth fell open into a perfect 'O.' She looked back at Alice who only winked.

* * *

When Hermione awoke, it was just after midnight.

She sat up straight in bed and felt for her pack mark, making sure it wasn't burning and alerting the others to come rushing in to the rescue. When her fingers touched cool skin, she breathed a sigh of relief and slipped out of bed.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She'd planned to stay up until she knew everyone in the house was sleeping and make her escape then. Somehow, she felt like Neville coming to say goodbye now must have been his way of giving her that last boost of confidence to start this awful journey. Again. So she cast a _homenum dormeo_ on everyone in the house to make sure they would stay asleep, and got to work.

She created an undetectable extension charm on a knapsack and began to fill it with everything she might possibly need for a summer living rough. She pushed down blankets and clothes, a second pair of shoes Lily had cast off, and an assortment of pain potions and dittany she'd nicked from Madam Pomfrey before she'd left Hogwarts. After all, once Time had told her her mission to save the dead end was completed, she'd always known this horcrux hunt was coming.

After leaving a note she'd written earlier on the pillow of her bed, she crept down to the kitchens, guilt pooling in the pit of her stomach while she checked to make sure the house elves were nowhere to be found. In the dark, she opened her sack to jerky, potatoes, and tins of sardines, packages of dried fruits, beans, and nuts. As she was about to leave the pantry, she also snagged a small bag of chocolate chips and a cast iron pan to cook with.

When she went on the hunt with Harry and Ron, they were public enemies, unable to go to any wizarding community for fear of being recognized and turned in. They'd survived off wild berries and fish they'd cooked on hot rocks, plus a bag of biscuits they'd found in a bin and had then rationed for weeks.

She wasn't taking any chances this time, even if she would likely have the freedom to walk down Main St in Hogsmead if she wanted. She had nowhere else to go, no other place to call headquarters, so her only option was the road. She'd saved enough from Dorea's generous gift of pocket money to purchase a tent similar to the one they'd borrowed from the Weasley's last time, so she'd at least have a roof over her head.

Before she left the kitchen though, she wrote a second note begging forgiveness from Dorea, promising that even if she never wanted to see Hermione again, she would pay her back. And after leaving it on the middle island underneath a wooden spoon, she left through a back door.

The night air was cooler than usual for June. The wind rushed through the tops of the trees and swept up last fall's stray leaves in tiny whirls. Above her, the stars were muted in the dark blue sky, the moon dominating and only a week away from fullness. Hermione had another pang of guilt, this time for leaving Remus so close to the moon, but she quashed it. He understood what she had to do. He just probably wouldn't forgive her for doing it without him.

A twig snapped somewhere behind her and she caught a whiff of far-off perfume. Before Hermione could even think about what she was doing, she was scrambling up a massive apple tree. Some instinct inside her was screaming that the safest place to observe the passing danger would be from above, and so she climbed to the highest possible safe branch, and then crouched to wait.

Her hearing, already sensitive due to the moon's proximity, was heightening in fear. Who could be out there? Everyone from the manor was asleep, she'd made sure of that. She had no idea what kind of wards the Potters had set up around the manor, if they had any at all. This was still a time of relative peace in the wizarding world, especially for prominent purebloods like the Potters, and anyone might be able to wander onto the property. Theories and anxieties bubbled up inside, overwhelming her. She never trembled more, even as a child, than when she was about to be caught.

Soft footsteps landed in the orchards, made either by dainty feet or someone who knew how to conceal themselves and sneak around. She closed her eyes and concentrated, noting which path the person was taking, only to have her focus interrupted when a voice called out.

"Hermione, I know you're out here."

She cursed inwardly as she saw the outline of James' mother primly walking towards the general direction of her apple tree.

Dorea continued, speaking to the open air, "I could summons you out of hiding like a child, you know. But I think you'd rather have the opportunity to speak witch to witch and come clean about your frankly terrible decision-making skills."

Hermione hesitated for a moment longer before launching herself out of the tree, landing neatly on her feet. Dorea didn't even startle.

"I'm not going back," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

Dorea merely looked her up and down, snorted, then walked towards a gazebo a few meters away and sat down on a bench. Hermione looked down at her clothes. What was wrong with her jeans and t-shirt? Hermione took an apprehensive seat opposite the older woman, who was simply staring at Hermione. Time seemed to stretch as seconds of silence dragged by, neither witch saying anything. Far away, Hermione's sensitive hearing could pick up the slow, drawn out hoot of an owl. Hermione started to squirm under the older woman's gaze, which she couldn't decipher in the darkness. After a long while, Dorea simply asked, "Why aren't you coming back?"

"I don't want to bore you," Hermione snarked in a burst of rebelliousness. "It seems like you know everything that happens around here."

"Humor me."

Annoyed, but unwilling to be completely disrespectful, Hermione looked for the simplest explanation. Finally, she settled upon, "There's a war on, or at least there's one brewing. I have to stop it."

Dorea inclined her head, as if this were not news to her. "So why, might I ask, is this the responsibility of a nineteen-year-old witch?"

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, officially tired of explaining this to people. First McGonagall, then her pack, and now Dorea. In quick succession, she ran through the same reasons she'd listed with the others (though with far less detail and no references to her being from the future), answering Dorea's questions and rebuttals along the way.

It only took a few minutes until Dorea finally sighed. "You're a grown witch, Hermione. If you truly think this is the best course of action, I'm not going to stop you."

"Thank you, ma'am-"

"But first, I'm going to give you a piece of advice, one that has nothing to do with Dark Lords or defensive spells."

Hermione felt like groaning, but couldn't really be so rude to an adult. Especially one whose pantry she'd just raided.

"It's similar in many ways to a piece of advice my own mother gave me shortly before my wedding day," Dorea said, "but it differs in one key aspect. My mother informed me that 'Every witch must start a family someday. Your job, as a wife, is to protect that family and not turn your back on it.' And while she was right about family needing to be protected and valued, not everyone necessarily _starts_ a family someday.

"I'm not sure if you knew, but Charlus and I were married for more than twenty years before James came along. In the beginning, I felt like a failure for not providing my husband with children, for not starting the family my mother told me was my duty. What my mother didn't realize is that family is not something you start, but something you discover. Upon learning that, I've added to my family over and over. When the nurse placed James in my arms that first time, I was happier than I'd ever been, but it was not as though my life only started when he was born. Then when he brought home Sirius, it was adding another member, and now I feel like a veritable Weasley with all the young people in my house."

She looked at Hermione hard, the darkness outside blurring with her black dress until it was difficult for Hermione to see anything of her but the paleness of her face and the serious glint in her eye. "Everyone discovers their family eventually, some when they're young, others when they're older. But once you find that family, you don't let it go."

Hermione broke eye contact, but said nothing.

Dorea sighed. "I cannot tell you whether or not you've found your family. I don't really know you or your heart. Only you can determine inside if this pack of yours is family or some kind of convenient bit of magic you'll use to suit your needs and cast aside when it's no longer useful. But if it's the former, you'd be a coward to ignore them."

"A coward?" Hermione said, standing up. "They've got no idea what I'm up against. I'm protecting them from that, not shrinking from the fight."

"Gryffindors," Dorea scoffed, "you're all the same. You never learn that being friends with someone means you don't always fight _for_ them, but allow them the privilege of fighting _with_ you." She eyed Hermione. "Don't tell me, you've always fought all your battles all by your lonesome?"

Hermione felt a prickling of shame in the pit of her stomach. Still, she didn't want to admit Dorea was right. She began pacing. "The last time I fought, I was the one helping out. The sidekick. The friend I was following was braver than I, knew more than I in some ways, and had been my best friend for years. It's different now."

"Because you'll be the one responsible if something happens to them."

"Exactly!"

"And you're afraid of that responsibility."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth.

Dorea saw that she'd trapped Hermione and pressed on. "You're afraid and acting like a terrible Gryffindor. I wouldn't be surprised if Professor Dumbledore revoked your Gryffindor card as soon as he finds out."

"He can't- you wouldn't-" Hermione knew such a thing didn't really exist, but damn if this woman was _getting_ to her.

"So you'll take them then? This pack of yours? You'll woman up and take them on this quest of yours?"

Hermione shook her head, exasperated. "James is your only son. Sirius is your nephew. Why would you want them to come with me? It's properly dangerous!"

Dorea elegantly lifted one shoulder. "Every boy must become a man at some point. Pureblood boys generally earlier than most."

Hermione grasped for one more excuse. "What does Dumbledore say about this? Huh? I know you went to an Order meeting with him. Did you tell him what I was planning? How'd you even know?"

Dorea was unfazed. "A famous detective once said, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable. must be the truth.' You give far more away than you realize when you speak." Then Dorea leaned in towards Hermione's still pacing form and asked, "Why are you so distrustful of Dumbledore?"

"It's complicated," she said, looking away.

"I was a Slytherin. I know all about distrust. Which is why no, I haven't told him anything about your plans. Firstly, because they're not mine to tell, and secondly, because I firmly believe you should never put all your eggs in one basket." She crossed and uncrossed her legs, the only sign that she was growing tired of this conversation. "But you might want to rethink keeping him in the dark about everything. I'm not sure why you dislike him, but you'd do well to remember he's powerful, he's well connected, and he's on your side against this monster. You're casting aside allies too easily. _Like your pack_."

Hermione wrung her hands. She could tell Dorea was goading her. She wasn't an idiot. Harry had made basically the same arguments against her and Ron coming on the horcrux hunt, and time and again, it'd proved a good idea that the three had gone together. Hermione had known ever since meeting her pack plus Lily, and Remus especially, that they were every bit as brave, intelligent, and loyal as Harry and Ron had been. She knew if she, Ron, and Harry had been able to handle a horcrux hunt (some better than others), then these other four would be able to as well.

She knew when she'd been beat. "Fine. Yes."

"You'll allow your pack to help you?" she clarified, and Hermione nodded. Dorea stood up and walked over to her, a pat on the shoulder the only sign of approval. "Come now, let's get you inside. It's freezing out here."

Hermione disliked feeling like a child being escorted away so soon after being thoroughly chastised. "That's alright, ma'am. I'd rather stay out here a while longer. I like when I can be outside at night without… you know."

For the first time that night, Dorea looked uncomfortable. "You know, you're welcome to use the far field for the next moon. I'm sure we can keep you and Remus contained. One of Charlus' great, great uncles used to work with dragons out there, and I believe there are still some shockingly strong wards set up. I'm not sure where you both usually spends your, err, monthly terms, but if it would help…"

"I had wondered what we would do," Hermione admitted. "I only recently took ill, and assumed I'd just go home with Remus and explain to his parents what was going on and spend it however he does. I'm nervous about wards I'm not sure of, though. I'm sure you understand, it's not that I don't trust the dragon wards-"

"Don't mention it. Perhaps we can have the the Lupins over to help us create something suitable to keep everybody safe. Hmmm..." She nodded to herself, as if making a mental note, and then left Hermione with her thoughts.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and walked away, deeper into the apple orchard. Eventually, she came to a small pond, about the size of a quidditch pitch. It had water so still the moon and stars were perfectly reflected against it. She found that odd, since she could feel the bite of the wind against the back of her neck and knew it should be making ripples and waves on the surface. And yet the water remained motionless.

She sat down by the edge of the pond, trying to magically tap the air around it to feel for enchantments. Nearly a half hour went by without any success, and finally she gave up, opting instead to just enjoy the stillness and the way she seemed to be surrounded by starlight, both from above and below.

She'd nearly dozed off when she heard a series of sharp, high screeches from above. She opened her eyes to find a bird careening towards her, an envelope clasped in its claws and fluttering in the frenzied wind. Hermione rolled aside, and the bird landed perfectly right where she'd been laying.

It was an odd, exotic-looking owl; she'd never seen one like it before. It had prominent tufts where some animals had ears, much like a great horned owl, but its feathers were a soft, melted gold color, and its eyes were a glowing red. She shivered.

The bird squawked impatiently, and Hermione retrieved the letter from its talons. Her name was written on the front in a small, flawless script, and she wondered who on earth was writing to her at this hour.

Inside the expensive parchment envelope was a single corner scrap of paper with a torn edge on one side. It looked like it had been ripped from a textbook. It was only when Hermione saw the words "Looking for something?" and the title printed in the corner that she gasped.

 _Fordyce's Grimoire_

In the blank space on the opposite side, in the same neat handwriting, was a note:

"I've heard so much about you, Miss Granger. Perhaps we could discuss your family, your friends, and the passage of Time? I'll be waiting at Moribund's Shoppe in Knockturn Alley. June 30th, 11pm."

* * *

A/N: If you haven't noticed, I've started and kept to a schedule for four updates in a row! A new record! I hope to keep it this way for as long as I can, probably until the week of the wedding in May. We'll see.

Please take the time to review! It's so helpful to know what specifically people like and don't like. For instance, any guesses on who sent our mystery mail? First one right gets a surprise...

As always, thank you, dearest reader, for coming on this journey with me.


	28. Part Two- Chapter 5

Lily went into Hermione's room just after sunrise the next morning and found her already awake. Hermione was sitting in an armchair by the window, soaking in the early sunshine with a book on her lap. Her hair was sticking up at strange angles that defied gravity, and there were dark circles under her eyes that stood out against her chalky skin.

"Have you slept at all?" Lily asked lightly, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "Couldn't," she muttered, too tired to offer more than one-word answers.

"Well," Lily said, "take a pepper-up or chug an espresso or something. The boys were up before dawn, already starting to scheme. I waited as long as I could, but when Sirius said 'we can just transfigure some muggle guns and shoot He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the head,' I came to get you."

Hermione groaned, but stood up, her joints cracking as she did. She'd been sitting there reading Dorea's copy of _Fordyce's Grimoire_ for hours, looking for ways to destroy Voldemort without a basilisk fang or the dangerous fiendfyre. None of them involved shooting a horcrux with a gun. What a ridiculous suggestion.

Well, she'd spent _some_ of her time looking for horcrux-destruction methods. Most of her long hours reading had been spent searching for hints of what was on the ripped out page and clues about who might have taken it. She shuddered again when she thought of the letter she'd been owled, the way the mysterious author subtly threatened her friends and family, how they implied they knew far too much about her origins, and how they'd asked to meet her in Knockturn Alley of all places at almost midnight. She still wasn't sure if she'd go. Now that she was fully letting her pack help, however, she might as well tell them and see what they thought.

Together, she and Lily went to James' suite in the north wing where the boys had set up headquarters. James' suite consisted of not only a bedroom and bathroom, but also a personal sitting room and a small library. The quarters so obviously belonged to a teenage boy, Hermione thought as she walked in. The walls were dyed bright red and gold, as was typical of many Gryffindors, but it was hard to see the walls under all the band posters. AC/DC, The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Clash, the list went on, covering many bands she remembered her Dad liking, but dozens more she'd never even heard of. Maybe they were American. The sitting room was practically a shrine to rock and roll, complete with a drum set in the corner and a guitar that looked electric but couldn't possibly be, not in a house as magical as this.

"Welcome," said James, getting up off the floor where he, Sirius, and Remus were gathered around a stack of parchment and an assortment of snacks. He caught her looking at all his posters and grinned. He opened his mouth, no doubt to make some cocky comment, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Pepper-up."

With that order, Hermione took a seat (more like collapsed) next to Remus. His mouth hung open as he took in her state of disarray, and he brushed his hands over her hair to try and tame the frizz.

Lily, bless her, was the one to go into a cabinet in James' library for the required potion. She handed it over without a word. It was a few minutes later, after Hermione's brain was up to full capacity and she was knee-deep in plotting, that she wondered how Lily knew where to find the pepper-up in _James'_ room.

Hermione laid out their overall objective, which hadn't changed since she'd done it the first time: find and destroy all currently made horcruxes, which should number five at this time and could be anywhere, and then kill Voldemort himself. Spread out over the wood floors were charts and graphs where she outlined the extent of her knowledge of the past, and more importantly, her guesses for the future. Sirius had to leave for a while after discovering that his baby brother would likely once again join the Death Eaters. No amount of Hermione's assurance that he had light in him and might still become a hero could console him, and he didn't return until almost noon. By then, they'd already pieced together a good deal of Voldemort's current doings from both newspaper headlines and listening to the tape they recorded from the beetle she put in Dorea's purse. Dumbledore was no more free with his information to the Order of the Phoenix in this time, but Hermione was able to surmise that recruitment for the Death Eaters was going unfortunately well, and that Abraxas Malfoy seemed to hold the purse-strings to the whole operation. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Voldemort was living in Malfoy Manor in this time, just like the last.

In the end, the pack decided to spend the summer horcrux hunting and using Potter Manor as a home base, hoping that they could end the war before the next school year began. For over an hour, Lily ranted and raved about being allowed to come, even going as far as flirting with and hexing James in an attempt to join their group, but it was no use. When she flashed a hurt look at Hermione and simply asked why, Hermione spoke for the pack.

"You're every bit as capable as James, Remus, or Sirius. I don't want you assuming I think you're in any way lesser because that's ridiculous. Not only do you get better grades, but I know you're singularly gifted in ways they can't measure at Hogwarts. Honestly, I'd love to have another girl on the team, too.

"Plus, there will be plenty of times when we'll need information, and we won't always have the time to research for long periods of time ourselves. There's no one I trust besides myself to research so well except you." Remus gave a cough of protest, but Hermione ignored him.

"We also need someone on the outside, and I have a dreadful suspicion that we've already caught Voldemort's eye." Lily tried to interrupt, but Hermione held out a hand. "I'll get to that. But you! You're basically unknown in the wizarding world. Though everyone else is sneering at being Muggleborn, we can use that to our advantage. You can walk about virtually unseen. None of the rest of us have that luxury."

"I'm also not 'pack,'" she said, frowning.

"...there's that, too," Hermione agreed after a beat. "I don't know how pack magic works, but you might be a liability if the rest of us can use it and you're left out."

Lily sighed, but straightened her shoulders. She looked tired of fighting. "I still feel left out and hurt, and you'll all owe me for that," she said, looking each of them in the eyes in turn, "but I suppose I see your logic. I assume you've already made plans for what I can do while not coming along on your amazing adventure?"

Hermione pulled out a list of questions she'd drafted last night. They included questions like 'what can one do with a soul debt,' 'where is Peter,' and 'other ways to destroy horcruxes.' Lily looked a bit daunted by the list, which filled one page and part of the next, but nodded and put the bit of parchment into her pocket.

"There's one more thing we need to talk about," Hermione said as she unfolded the menacing letter from the night before and placed it on the ground in front of them all.

Sirius, the most suspicious of the bunch and the one most used to subterfuge and subtlety thanks to his Black upbringing, nearly spat after reading it. "It's Snape. You told us you he knows all about you being from the future. Who else could have revealed your secrets? Not McGonagall."

"Honestly, Sirius," Lily said, rolling her eyes, "I was there when he made an unbreakable vow. If he told, he's dead now."

"One can only hope," he muttered under his breath.

"I thought of Snape, too," Hermione said. "But for the same reason Lily brought up, I had to rule him out. Somehow, someone else has found out."

"She capitalized 'Time,'" James pointed out, "maybe someone else talks to the portrait at Hogwarts, and Time told on Hermione?"

"What makes you think the writer is a she?" Remus asked.

"Look at the handwriting!" he said, pointing. "No bloke has penmanship like that."

"You should see my brother's," Sirius snorted, "flowy and loopy like a damn flower."

"Regardless, we should go," said Lily, and when she saw the looks the four were giving her, she rolled her eyes and corrected herself. " _You_ all should go. We have got to know what a soul debt can do. If Hermione secretly has all kinds of power over Malfoy, that would be something he wouldn't want anyone to know, and would be REALLY good for us to know. Whoever sent the letter knows that secret. We have to go to Knockturn Alley."

"Are you insane?" cried Remus. "That's the last thing we should do. Whoever wrote this note is threatening, shady, and knows way too much about Hermione. That can only mean this is a trap. Why else would they use _Fordyce's Grimoire_ but as bait?"

"I'm with Remus," Sirius said, to Hermione's surprise. "What? Sounds like the kind of thing my mother would do if she had an enemy. Lure them in with some promise of whatever they desire, then off them with an _avada_. Knowing what kind of power you have over Malfoy would be nice, but it's not worth dying over. Now if the missing page was titled 'How to kill Voldemort in three, easy steps' that would be different."

"I think Lily's right," said James, to no one's surprise. "We should go in, guns blazing, and take this mystery writer by surprise. Show 'em a little pack magic razzle dazzle."

The group, now split 50/50, looked at Hermione.

 _Pepper-up wears off too quickly,_ she thought as she sluggishly went over the same points she'd already considered before. Her practical side saw red flag after red flag, and her head was full of warning bells, but Gryffindor side did not like the idea of shrinking from a fight.

In the end, there was only one decision.

"We don't go. Maybe we set up some surveillance ahead of time and see who shows up, but Sirius is right; we aren't desperate enough for this information quite yet."

Lily crossed her arms and James copied her, but there was no further disagreement. Somewhere along the way, Hermione's word had become law. She wasn't altogether comfortable with that.

"So where do we start, then?" Sirius asked, rubbing his hands together. "Which horcrux do we go after first?"

Hermione pointed to a map she'd hastily drawn which marked all known locations of each horcrux. "The cup is most likely to still be in the same place, I'd guess, and that's in the Black family vault. But Bellatrix is so paranoid and keeps such close tabs on that thing that we should probably save it for last, or else we might give ourselves away before we've begun. My other thought was to try the Malfoys-"

"It'll be impossible to get all of us in there," said James. "Can you imagine? Pack magic or not, the Malfoys are paranoid as anything and have the wards to prove it."

"Even if we just tried to send Hermione, she couldn't get within twenty leagues of it now that she's gone and collected a soul debt," Remus scoffed. "Let's table that one. What are our other options?"

Just then, there was a forceful tapping at the window that made them all start. When they looked, there was a magnificent horned owl standing on the ledge and glaring impatiently at them.

James, as owner of the bedroom, went to the window and let it in. With a strong nip, the bird extended his leg where an ivory scroll was attached. The paper looked expensive.

"It's addressed to you, Sirius," James said, handing it over.

Sirius knitted his eyebrows and took it, his face brightening more and more the longer he read it.

"Well?" James asked, impatiently.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, flourishing the letter and reading, "It is the great honor of pleasure of Abraxus of House Malfoy to announce the betrothal of his heir, Lucius Primus Malfoy, to Narcissa Estella of House Black. A ball to celebrate this momentous joining will take place on the evening of the Summer Solstice, June 21st at 8 o'clock pm."

"So you got invited to a party?" Lily asked, not seeing the significance.

"A party held at Malfoy Manor," he corrected with a smile. "And it says I get to bring a guest."

All eyes looked to Hermione, who pursed her lip thoughtfully.

"James," she asked, "have you got any polyjuice laying around?"

* * *

A/N: Look at that! Another update on time! (If you haven't caught on, uploads are coming every other Friday.)

SOMEONE correctly guessed who sent the mystery letter (I won't say who to prevent spoilers). As a reward, I'm writing a one-shot with a trope of their choosing. Guess I'm writing a Remione marriage law sometime soon. :)

Also, I was going to tell you that today was the last day for you to get your nominations in to the Shrieking Shack Society's Mischief Managed Awards, but APPARENTLY they closed early? So I hope you all got a chance to nominate your favorite stories. If not, you'll at least get to see the final round of voting and either vote for your favs that someone else nominated or get a bunch of cool recommendations for new stories!

Your reviews make my day, dear followers. As always, thank you for reading.


	29. Part Two- Chapter 6

"Do you really think I can do this?" Hermione whispered, fingering the fine silk material of her dress as she and Sirius waited in line in front of the Malfoy's Manor.

"Fake it til you make it, Kitten," he whispered back, adjusting the cravat nearly strangling his neck.

She nodded. Hearing his quiet confidence was what she needed more than hearing an actual answer. She rehearsed etiquette rules in her mind to distract herself, going over all the preparations from the last two weeks.

Dorea, after hearing and heartily approving of their plan to infiltrate the Malfoy's ancestral home, taught Hermione how to walk, talk, sit, stand, eat, and dress like a pureblood. It was rather like learning to be a princess. Sirius and James, being purebloods themselves, had helped out initially while Remus watched, but when they realized how many more rules there were concerning the fairer sex, they raced out on brooms back to the makeshift pitch.

Step one was apparently a makeover, for according to Dorea, "as charming as your current appearance is, purebloods expect a more… refined look." As there was no polyjuice to be found on such short notice, Hermione would have to attend the party under layer after layer of cosmetic glamour charms, none of which Hermione had seen fit to teach herself in the past. And so in the course of several hours one afternoon, Dorea had Hermione's skin several shades lighter, her hair tamed and colored, her legs longer, her chest flatter, and her face so altered and childish that Hermione didn't recognize herself in the mirror.

"That's kind of the point, isn't it?" Lily had reminded her after she got over her initial shock.

Lily was able to stay for a few days of pureblood prep before being called home to Cokeworth. Apparently, Petunia and the Vermin had convinced Mr. and Mrs. Evans that Lily should spend as little time with 'freak kind' as possible, in order to minimize the damage wizards and witches might have on her upbringing. When Hermione questioned why she didn't just run away and stay with the Potters, Lily explained that as much as she loved the wizarding world, (and, Hermione noticed, as much as Lily looked at James Potter these days), the Evans' were still her family. So she made a tearful goodbye and left, laden with books to use for researching, including the copy of _Fordyce's Grimoire_ with Dorea's blessing. She also had one parting gift from Hermione.

"It's an enchanted galleon, so don't lose it in a coin purse," Hermione explained, rubbing her thumb over the gold, engraved dragon so that the firey red lettering showed.

"9-23-75," Lily read. "What's that?"

"The day I met you," Hermione said, smiling, "and the day I came up with this idea."

"Some charmed coin that reminds you of a date?" she asked with a wry smile. "I'm sorry if I'm not impressed. It's basically invisible ink. And why would you think of that the first day we met?" She said this with gentleness and a poke at Hermione's shoulder, but Hermione still felt defensive of her new favorite creation.

"Just watch and see how it works. Go ahead, stand on the other side of the room." Lily did as asked, despite the doubtful look on her face. "Okay now, Lily. Repeat after me. _Adhaerent exemplare_."

Lily did so, and from across the room, she was propelled through the air and flew into Hermione, knocking them both to the ground.

"What the hell!?" Lily squawked, scrambling to her feet.

Hermione grinned. "It's my own invention. When we met in the Great Hall my first day at Hogwarts, you saved me from having to sit next to Sirius, and I thought 'man, I'm going to want this girl to stick by me.' And so I came up with this."

"A dangerous flying spell?"

"No. Weeell," Hermione conceded, "kinda. The spell activates the coin in your hand, and therefore, whoever's holding the coin will be drawn back to me, just like a magnet."

"How far a range does it have? Could I be in China and use it?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I've never tried it that far, obviously. But based on my calculations, it should activate as long as both coins are in the UK. Specifically, that's what it's meant for. It's in case the pack is on the move and you need to get to us, stat."

"You've only based this on a few calculations?" she asked, eyes wide. "So you've never tried it?"

Hermione opened her mouth to explain that her calculations were always on point, thank you very much, before they were interrupted by Dorea, calling them to a formal dinner practice. So she hissed something about only using the coin in the most dire of circumstances, and after concentrating on which utensil to use at which meal for an hour, both girls promptly forgot about the coin.

And so Hermione's days were filled, alternately planning with Lily until she had to leave, practicing the proper way to pour tea and a million other lessons with Dorea, and then teaching the boys in her pack, especially Sirius, who was bringing her to the ball, every defensive spell she could think of.

As tiring as her days were, it was her nights that were truly exhausting. When she woke up the morning of the 21st, she'd racked up a grand total of ten hours of sleep in the course of the week, plagued by nightmare after nightmare of Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix's cursed knife. Remus hadn't slept much more, preferring to sit in the uncomfortable seat beside her bed and stroke her hair for hours, whispering sweet encouragements and stories. When she'd left to go to the party, he'd kissed her forehead and promised a crushing hug as soon as she got back from confronting her demons.

"Sirius Orion Black, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, prepared to party," Sirius said, unecessarly introducing himself to the butler, who Hermione was shocked to find wasn't an elf. Instead, he was a withered man with one eye stitched shut and a gnarled wand pointed at them. Sirius, still all smiles, motioned towards Hermione, "And this would be my radiant plus one."

She gave a slight curtsey. "Madeline Brown, if you please," she said in a carefully small voice.

The overall plan was to have Hermione be as plain and unobtrusive as possible. After a bit of a debate, they figured having her pretend to be some lesser relative of Alice, who was herself a pureblood, would be appropriately unknown and yet still acceptable by the party's standards. The goal was not to stand out. If Hermione did anything to draw attention to herself, including impersonating the wrong person, she couldn't do her job properly, which was to spy on the Malfoys and seek out horcruxes. Too much attention and her facade would crumble, botching the whole operation. She was made up to be beautiful but ordinary, polished but somehow forgettable. Basically, she was a doll, nothing more than arm candy for Sirius.

Sirius, too, was supposed to be unremarkable. However, if he tried to act unremarkable in the same way as Hermione- mousy, meek, and mild- the party would be able to talk of nothing but the prodigal heir. Therefore, his task was to be his typically brash and defiant self; he could drink more firewhiskey than was good for him, make a few comments about the superiority of Gryffindor, and generally make a nuisance of himself. What he couldn't do was take things too far and get blasted off the family tree, which Hermione assured him was a true possibility.

The butler, still standing before them, didn't even look at her. Instead, he waved his wand at the doorway, which took on a shimmering quality, as if there was a waterfall of magic cascading down from the doorpost.

"Walk through, if you please," he said, eyeing the pair of them. "If you're carrying any dark artifacts, weapons, or presents, or if you're wearing any kind of glamour, I'll know."

Hermione apparently couldn't keep all the fear off her face, which only made the crooked man laugh. The noise was mirthless though, more like a dry, rasping cough. "Just kidding, prissy. The detector only catches things like polyjuice, not like your hair or face paint charms."

Blushing furiously, she walked arm in arm with Sirius through the doorway. A shiver ran up her spine as the magic took stock of her belongings and bearing, but it let them pass undetected.

"Remind me why I had to take the worst liar in the world into the snake pit?" Sirius muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Ah, my young cousin," a cultured voice said.

Hermione turned and saw a familiar woman with two-toned hair. Narcissa, even a younger version of her, looked disgustingly rich in a midnight blue dress, bedecked with what looked like hundreds of tiny diamonds arranged to resemble the night sky. She offered her perfectly manicured hand to Sirius, who bowed over it and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Lucius, who was standing next to her also dressed to the nines, scoffed.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Sirius, this is my fucking ridiculous fiance, Lucius."

Hermione nearly choked upon hearing the perfect, proper Narcissa _swearing_.

The two men ignored the women and stared at each other, both clearly fighting to keep open hostility off their face. Hermione kept her eyes trained on Lucius, trying to sense whether or not she felt any kind of bond or soul debt hanging between them. She didn't. In a move that shocked Hermione, Sirius lost the stare-off by inclining his head, respectfully.

"If your fiance knows what's good for him, he'll make good use of his talents to provide for you. May I suggest allowing birds and butterflies to perch on his constantly upturned nose?"

Maybe not so respectfully.

"Or what?" Lucius countered, his nose wrinkling. "You'll dungbomb me to death?"

Narcissa swatted Lucius' shoulder, which he shrugged off with a sigh and turned to leave the little group.

"That's the third time I've made him go 'get me punch' already, you brat," she whispered. "Quit being such a pain in my arse. I've got to keep him from making a fool of himself for one bloody night, and I really don't need you egging him on."

"I'm sure my own date will keep me properly in line," he said, putting a hand on the small of Hermione's back. "Madeline Brown, meet my cousin Narcissa."

Narcissa gave Hermione one uninterested glance before turning back to Sirius. "No firewhiskey, no fighting, no being a fucking moron."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Cissy," Sirius said with a wink. "Now if you'll excuse us, I need to continue hiding from my witch of a mother."

Narcissa shuddered. "Good luck, she's on the warpath tonight. Heard she was hoping to introduce you to a certain _guest of honor_."

Sirius gulped. "Come on, Madeline," he said, leading Hermione away.

"Has she always used such language?" Hermione whispered as they passed through a candle lit hallway.

"Cissa? Oh yeah. She's always had a mouth like a drunk goblin. Her mother, my aunt Druella, is constantly on her case about it. Used to make her drink cleaning potions when she was little to try and break her of the habit, but you know us Blacks. We're stubborn."

As they left the hallway behind and entered into the Main Hall, Hermione's jaw dropped. After the gargoyle of a man at the front door, Hermione had half expected this party to be like a primary school student's Halloween party, with ghouls and spider webs strewn everywhere. She wasn't prepared (though she should have been) for how light and beautiful the main hall looked.

Everything glittered. There were dazzling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, each bearing dozens of enchanted candles that bounced light off the twinkling, dangling gems. Not to mention the sun was still hours away from setting and the beams caught everything from the crystal glasses to the jewelry dripping from all of the female guests. The stately columns that lined the hall were all wrapped round with delicate garlands interwoven with what seemed to be spun gold. Hermione spun around, trying to take it all in, and for just a moment forgetting she'd been tortured in the parlor just a few steps away.

For the next hour or so, Sirius and Hermione mingled with the British wizarding world's upper crust; Sirius made loud and uncouth jokes at the expense of little old ladies, spiked the common punch with a bottle of Ogden's finest, and nearly took a swing at his little brother the moment they laid eyes on each other, all while successfully hiding from his mother. Hermione remained silent, observing everything and everyone around her and taking copious mental notes to review later. She'd also scoped out the door to a side study she saw Lucius and some other distinguished men disappearing into more than once. She figured she'd start there.

After making a brief stop to the restroom to pull James' invisibility cloak out of her extended clutch, she very carefully made her way to the door of the study, slipped in behind a white-haired man who looked remarkably like Lucius the next time he went in, and immediately hid herself behind a silk screen in the corner.

For a few minutes it was quiet, and Hermione was just happy to leave behind the noise of the party for a bit. She scoured the bookshelf behind her, half hoping a copy of _Fordyce's Grimoire_ would just be hanging out in the open. On the other side of the screen, she could hear the clink of crystal and a liquid being poured. Then, the door opened again, and a new set of footsteps padded across the wooden floor.

"Ah, there you are," an older, deeper voice said.

"I'm surprised at your surprise," a younger man said. Hermione could then assume the first man was Malfoy Sr. But the younger voice didn't sound much like Lucius.

The unknown man continued, sounding defensive, "Have you ever known me to miss an appointment?"

"Take it easy, my boy," Malfoy said, pouring another drink. "What did you want to talk about?"

There was a sound like the shuffling of fabric, followed by a light thudding noise, like a bundle of cloth or wrapped stack of papers.

"Is that what I think it is?" Malfoy asked.

"It is."

"Why not give it to Lucius? T'would make a fine engagement present for him, wouldn't you say?"

The younger man scoffed. "We've had this conversation, Abraxas. Your son is a twit, at best, and utterly incompetent at worst."

"He graduated just this past June!"

"Because you bought off the board of directors. Admit it. He can't be trusted farther than you can cast a _lumos_."

Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Malfoy should have flunked out of Hogwarts? As annoying a git as Draco was, he was dead smart. That meant he must have gotten his brains from his mother. Interesting.

"I need someone I can trust with this. Someone who will know the right way to use it, complete the purpose for which it was made."

Malfoy sighed. "Then I shall take it, my boy. Only for safekeeping, though. I shan't use it until we've spoken further on the matter." There was a sound like the clap on a back and the opening and shutting of a drawer before both men got up.

"Let's rejoin the party. Dinner should be served soon, I believe."

When they were both gone, Hermione quickly rushed to the large oak desk where she assumed the drawer was. There had to be thirty different drawers on the thing! So she began to search, looking for whatever would sound like a leather-bound stack of pages. She was only digging through the second one when she heard the door open again.

"-forgot my drink."

Hermione froze, glad she'd kept the invisibility cloak on, but worried that she'd left the small top drawer conspicuously open. She held her breath as she took a series of half steps backwards, moving as far away as she dared without drawing attention to herself.

Malfoy, Sr grabbed his drink and immediately spotted the open drawer. He stared at it for a moment, probably trying to remember whether or not he'd left it open, before he drew his wand and looked about the room. Hermione's heart rate began to pound even harder than before.

"Abraxas?" the younger voice called from the other side of the door. "You coming?"

With a last glance around the room, Malfoy Sr slammed the door shut with a wave of his wand. Hermione also heard a series of clicking sounds, like a dozen locks snapping into place all at once. When he left, Hermione sucked down a lungful of sweet air and tested a drawer. Locked. So secure was it that even her strongest _alohomora_ couldn't budge it. She cursed inwardly. Recognizing when she was beat, she cracked the door open and cast the first spell that came to mind towards the vaulted ceiling. A series of sparks like childish fireworks started sputtering and falling upon all the guests, which was enough of a distraction to hide a side door opening and closing all by itself. She'd have to find another way to get the desk drawer open.

* * *

The night might have gone so differently if Sirius hadn't challenged his cousin Andromeda to a drunk race up a set of columns about half past eleven.

"There you are!" a horrible, shrill voice called, echoing throughout the entire room. Every guest in attendance seemed to make a path for Walburga Black as she closed in on her eldest son, who was finally caught in a corner. The whole assembly turned to stare at him perched halfway up the marble pillar. Hermione watched from the hors d'oeuvres table as the matronly witch wearing a hat that resembled a bird's nest planted herself at the base of the column and pointed her wand at Sirius. "You have until the count of three to get down and behave like a proper heir, or I'll turn you over my knee like a bleeding house elf!"

"Well the first part I can gladly oblige, mother dearest," Sirius said, sliding down like a fireman on a pole, "but we both know I'm never going to behave like a 'proper heir.'"

"How dare you besmirch your Noble and Most Ancient House!" she seethed, letting the back of her hand fly across Sirius' cheek. "Have you no sense of decorum?"

"Riiight," Sirius said after a beat, checking his lip for blood, "because backhanding your son in public is perfectly decorous."

"Quite the rogue son you've got there, Walburga."

Walburga turned to face her accuser whose voice echoed in the now quiet room, but upon seeing his face (which Hermione didn't have a good view of), she blushed and stuttered a moment before dipping into something of a curtsey. The accuser, a man, looked perhaps a few years older than Hermione and was wearing an expensive looking set of dress robes. He was also extending a hand to Sirius.

"We need some rogues in the world though, wouldn't you agree, Mister Black?"

Sirius, suspicious of anyone at a pureblood gathering not immediately disgusted with his behavior, didn't take his hand. The unknown man then started speaking in a low voice that Hermione was too far away to catch. Carefully, she wove around party-goers to hear better. As she got closer, she could see Lucius and Narcissa standing only a few paces behind Sirius, whispering to each other.

When Hermione drew near enough to see the man's face and hear their conversation, she quietly gasped. Though the man's face was handsome, she did not recognize it. She did, however, recognize the pale green and silver locket hanging around his neck.

"Of course," the man wearing the locket, who Hermione could now only assume to be Tom Riddle, was saying, "your house is a black mark against you, if you'll forgive the pun. But there's a use for all wizards in the world, even the Gryffindors among us. In fact, I do have a particularly special project in mind for you."

"Do you hear that, Sirius?" Walburga was saying, poking him in the side, "I told you he'd accept you, as long as you just-"

"Just what, mother?" he asked violently flinching away from her touch. "Just turn to the dark arts? Kill all the mudbloods? Never."

Tom Riddle's eyes narrowed. "It's possible not all positions in my organization would be quite so… distasteful to you. Once you proved yourself loyal, you'd be free to peruse projects that suit your interests, of course. I'm told you're quite fond of werewolves?"

Sirius advanced on Tom Riddle. "How did you-"

"Oh there you are, Sirius," Hermione said, making her way over to her date quickly, "I've been looking all over for you. You promised you'd dance with me."

"Can't you see he's a bit busy?" Walburga said, a vein throbbing purple on her forehead.

Hermione put on her best pout. "But I want to dance now!" She added a foot stomp and allowed the tips of her hair to give off sparks, hinting at a bit of unstable magic simmering beneath her surface. At this point, it would be better to draw some attention to herself rather than risk Sirius pissing off Tom Riddle himself.

"I'm sorry, dear, but this gentleman and I are in the middle of a friendly chat," Sirius said to her, though he was shooting daggers at Tom Riddle with his eyes, "starting with how he knows so much about my damn business."

"No, sweetheart, you're not," Hermione insisted. "You're going to come dance with me right. Now."

Sirius continued protesting, but Hermione dragged him away. She didn't get very far before her path was blocked.

"And who might you be, little spitfire?" Tom asked.

Hermione hesitated just a moment too long, having forgotten her made up name when she accidentally made eye contact with Voldemort. It was like being stuck at the bottom of the black lake all over again; she felt cold and clammy all over, like there was something evil lurking just behind the seaweed. She felt water dripping from the tips of her soaking wet hair, and something wriggling inside her shoe.

"This is my date, Maddy Brown," Sirius said, jerking her back to the present, where there was no water, no creature. Just a very suspicious-looking dark lord.

"Miss Brown, then," Voldemort said. "Your date and I have a few things we need to attend to. You understand. Sometimes, boys need to do things girls aren't allowed to be a part of."

Walburga Black could be seen over Voldemort's shoulder, nodding vigorously and pulling Regulus along behind her, as if he'd get to watch whatever was about to take place. Hermione began to back up, holding on tightly to Sirius in case they needed to disapparate.

"And sometimes," she retorted in as petulant a voice as she could manage, "boys need to do what they promised to do. Like snog their girlfriends!" At this, Hermione, gave Sirius' arm a good tug that sent them both sailing through the open French doors and out onto the darkened patio beyond.

"Come on!" she whispered, running into the black night beyond the reaches of the party's lights as she tugged the invisibility cloak out of her clutch. Moments later, they were under the cloak and standing on the dark lawn, catching their breath.

It was perfect timing, too, for Voldemort and Walburga were hot on their heels. In the time it took their eyes to adjust to the darkness though, Hermione and Sirius were safe.

"Damnit, Walburga, you told me he'd be ready."

"Just give him one more chance, my lord," she pleaded, "he's just not used to the idea. Now that you've proposed it, he'll think it through, logically. He's a very calculating young man. He'll see the truth in what you told him, and he'll be ready come the fall, I promise you."

"We'll see."

"Lord Voldemort?" a small, reedy voice said, "I'm ready to join you, even if Sirius is not."

Voldemort laughed. "That's alright, lad," he said, ruffling Regulus' hair, "your time will come soon enough. I haven't much use at present for prepubescent boys. If I think of anything, I'll be sure to let you know."

As soon as they went back into the Main Hall, Sirius let out a string of curses more colorful even than those she'd heard Minerva use that one time.

"I know you said Reggie would turn, but I had hoped…" Sirius trailed off.

"I know," Hermione said, "and I'm sorry. But right now we have work to do. I think I found not one, but _two_ horcruxes here tonight."

"Really?" he asked, perking up, "Where?"

Hermione explained, but Sirius scoffed. "One you only _think_ might be a horcrux, though you didn't even see it and it's currently super, duper locked up, and the other is literally around Voldemort's neck. Are you insane?"

"Look, we'll just split up. I'll go back to the study disillusioned, and you can take the cloak and-"

"What? Waltz up to the Dark Lord himself and take it out from under his nose? Don't you think he'll notice the second it's missing?"

Hermione thought fast. She hadn't been expecting to find the locket this soon. "We could make a copy! We'll switch the one on his neck for one that just looks like it."

"You're stark raving mad, you are. No one would be fooled by that."

"You'd be surprised," she said. "Just try it? Please? Your a brilliant wizard who's more than capable of transfiguring a little trinket like the one he's got. You could even use something dark to begin with so it seems like the real thing. I'm sure this house is full of dark, creepy stuff."

Sirius yanked on his hair, thinking and messing up his style completely. "Fine. We've got to try, don't we? When will we next have a shot at getting two horcruxes in the same night?"

"You're the best," Hermione said, wrapping him up in a hug.

They broke off soon after that, planning to meet back in the same spot in 30 minutes exactly, with or without the horcruxes. Already, the guests were starting to thin out as the clock had just struck midnight, and it would be much harder to get away with anything when there weren't dozens of guests to hide behind or help distract others from their true purpose. Hermione was throwing every spell she could think of at the oak desk when the door suddenly burst open.

Lucius had his wand drawn and a menacing expression on his face. "I swear, I find you in here, you little miscreant, I'll use your hide to wipe my arse."

Hermione, still disillusioned, said nothing. Despite this, Lucius started casting wild spells into the 'empty' room and still managed to land a stinging hex on her left arm.

"Ouch!" she called out, too distracted by the pain to keep holding up the near-invisibility spell, and so became visible.

"What the hell?" Lucius said, immediately aiming his wand straight at her heart. "Who are you? You're not supposed to be in here."

"Expelliarmus!" she said.

Lucius' wand sailed through the air to land neatly in her hand. His face turned bright red, though whether it was from embarrassment or fury, she couldn't say.

"You give that back right now! My father will hear about this!"

"You won't tell anyone," she taunted, "because then everyone would know you got beat by a little girl."

Lucius' face took on a blank, receptive quality. "I won't tell anyone," he repeated calmly.

"What did you say?"

Lucius' face went back to normal. "I said, _my father will hear about this_!"

Hermione remembered something in a muggle children's book she read back in her original time. "Lucius, hop on one foot."

Again, his pale, aristocratic face went blank and he did as she asked, hopping on one foot robotically.

"Oh this is fantastic," she whispered. She gave him back his wand, then ordered, "open every drawer in this desk."

In a flash, every drawer was unlocked and slid wide open revealing their contents to Hermione. When she looked up though, she saw him coming out of his weird, zombie state, so she said the first thing that popped into her head. "Um, Lucius, look around this room and find the book called _Fordyce's Grimoire_."

As he began looking around the room, Hermione searched through the contents of the desk, slamming drawer after drawer shut after all she found were potions, papers, and other items she was sure would disembowel her or worse if she touched them. Minutes later, when she finally came to the bottom, heaviest drawer, she found it.

"Thank Merlin," she whispered. Then, in a move she'd thank Merlin for over and over again in the future, she duplicated the diary and stashed the completely unmagical copy in the desk drawer and stashed the true horcrux in her clutch

"I have found the book called _Fordyce's Grimoire_ ," Lucius said in a monotone voice.

"My, that's convenient," Hermione said, and grabbed that too.

"Hey, who are you? You're not supposed to be in here."

"Oh, just go tell Tom Riddle that he is a pretty, pretty princess a few times," she said with a smirk, starting to get a little drunk off the power.

Lucius left and Hermione disillusioned herself once more to follow him out the door. Party-goers were sparse now, and looking up at the clock she could see there were only three minutes left until she had to meet Sirius. Where could he be?

"Tom Riddle, you are a pretty, pretty princess."

Voldemort, who'd been holding court in the center of the room surrounded by his trusted death eaters, eyed Lucius carefully. "Lucius? Did you lose a bet?"

"Tom Riddle, you are a pretty, pretty princess."

A few death eaters started murmuring among themselves, but Voldemort cut them off. "Are you drunk?"

"Tom Riddle, you are a pretty, pretty princess."

" _Why are you talking like that_?"

Lucius, who'd finally swum up from underneath the spell after completing his mission, snorted in a cocky voice. "Talking like what?"

"Say it again," Voldemort ordered, his hands now twitching by his side, ready to grab his wand.

"Say what again?"

"Tell me I'm a pretty, pretty princess."

Lucius gave him an _are you serious?_ look, but then awkwardly said, "You're a pretty princess?"

"She's here," Voldemort said looking around the room wildly. "Granger, she's figured it out. She's _here_! Abraxas! Lock the doors!"

Hermione, who did not wait a second longer, took off her heels and ran on her tiptoes across the hall now ringing with Voldemort's orders to his minions. Just as the doors were closing, she squeezed herself through and out onto the patio, heading straight for the darkness beyond.

"Sirius!" she whisper shouted. "Sirius, where are you?"

"Here!" his voice called, all the way back against a line of hedge trees. He pulled the cloak off his head so his disembodied hair stuck up in wild angles, catching the waxing moonlight.

She ran to him and grabbed his arm and immediately tried to disapparate. But nothing happened.

"Damn, they've set up wards," she cursed.

"What's going on?"

"No time to explain now. We've got to get out of here! How?"

Sirius wasted no time turning into Padfoot. Using his snout, he motioned to his back.

"You've got to be joking," she said. "There's no way you could carry me!"

A glass shattered inside the Main Hall, which alerted Hermione to the peering faces looking out the shimmering windows into the night.

"Don't you dare tell Remus about this," she whispered as she climbed up onto Padfoot's back and allowed him to carry her at a breakneck pace away into the night.

* * *

A/N: And thus finishes the longest chapter I've ever written for this ridiculous story. And once again on time, too! Much love to all who've stuck with me this long.

Your reviews make my day, dear readers. Please let me know which parts you liked best! It really does help me as I write subsequent chapters.

As always, thank you for reading.


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